Difficult Love
by Redandblackcatta
Summary: Basically, Grell's always wanted a child, so I decided to give her one. Of course, this involves male pregnancy, as Grell is still a male. It's another Grelliam fic, though the Grelliam love takes a little while to get going, though attraction is there for both in the beginning. ;) I hope you enjoy. It will have lots of cute moments too! ;) Rated T for obvious reasons. GRELLIAM!
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note**_ : I'M SO SORRY THAT I HAVEN'T UPDATED MY OTHER STORY, JEALOUSY, IN SO LONG! I'm on holiday in Scotland now, and have left the plan for that story at my house, so I've completely lost everything that I was doing on it. I promise to update it further when I get my plan back, it's just that it's been so long since my last glance at the plan that I've completely forgotten how I was even going to end the Chapter I was halfway through writing! . Anyway, I've decided to start another Grelliam one, and hopefully it will be good! Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, and never will, unfortunately.

Difficult Love Chapter One

Grell sighed tiredly as she rubbed her forehead again, scowling down at her unfinished work. It wasn't her fault, this time, that the work wasn't done. Ronald had been running around the office with vigour, laughing and messing around, having finished his own work, Eric joining in, and the two of them had crashed into her desk, spilling ink all over her lovely new brown velvet waistcoat, ruining it completely. She had only just whisked her coat out of the way in time, before realising that her shirt and waistcoat were the least of her worries. The work that had taken her half the day to finish had been covered in thick black ink, with no hope of rescue.

Ronald and Eric had got out of there pretty quickly after that, scared that Grell was going to blow her top. Her teeth were clenched, and she was making a vague growling sound in her throat, eyes burning daggers at them. Especially when she had caught sight of her beautiful, scarlet locks. Revved up, her chainsaw had roared as she chased Ronald and Eric down the corridor, complaining because of the amount of time and effort it would take to get the black out of her hair, and she just didn't need the stress. It has been then that William had found her, and her rampaged had been halted for the time being, though she vowed to get revenge on the 'pathetic brat' and the 'useless senior'. Alan had apologised for Eric as Grell had been lead away by an irate William T. Spears.

Therefore, it wasn't long before William had sat her down at her desk and told her to redo the whole lot of her work, which she knew would take her at least five hours, taking her to half past nine at night. Furiously, she had slunk off once William's back had turned, not even bothering to keep him longer by flirting with him as she usually would, and had rushed to the bathroom, quickly working the stains out of her hair and cursing the two blondes when they left watery blue-black stains, clenching her teeth once more.

It was only once William had found her at her desk once more, again not working, that he dragged her back and watched over her for the first five pieces of paperwork, while she blushed, fidgeted and tried not to stare back at the tall man. Every time he looked at her, ever since they had been students, she had felt the warm feelings in her heart, and the butterflies in her stomach that accompanied love, and she always wondered if he felt it. Her only option open, though, was to flirt, because that was the only communication that William gave an even vaguely emotional answer to, and only to yell at her, or hit her. She supposed that it must be annoying for him, but she had loved him so long that she just had to know if he loved her back, because the not knowing was killing her. Then again, she supposed not knowing was better than knowing he hated her, or worse, felt indifferently about her, because then she could delude herself into thinking that they might work out, one day.

Ticking boxes and moping, Grell twirled a few strands of hair around her finger, getting distracted by the bright contrast between the red and the pallor of her skin, leather gloves having been removed when she realised that they would just further stain the papers with ink. Anything, she decided, was more exciting than repeat paperwork, even new paperwork, and she wished once again that William had given Ronald and Eric the paperwork to do, but knowing that it would be ridiculous, as they had never been on the Reaps she was filing. Sighing, she shifted one more piece of paper, smiling at the fact that her red pen usage would get at least a little reaction out of William, and realised that she was on her last piece, only an hour later than she expected to be, which, she realised, was to be expected due to her brief stint in the bathroom.

Pen in hand, Grell thought of the answers quickly, writing all the information and even signing her signature in her neatest, most elegant writing, knowing that it would sit at the top of William's paperwork box the next day, and wanting to show off somewhat. Smiling, she leaned back in her chair when she finished, before making sure that her ink was far, far away from her work and letting her forehead drop to the table, exhaustion taking over. Quickly, she gathered the papers up, bundling them into her arms before heading over to William's office, expecting him to be gone. However, when she walked in he was still there, clearly just finishing up as she was.

William looked up when he heard his door open, prepared to reprimand whoever it was for entering his office without knocking, only to draw up short in the last second, realising that it was half past ten, and whoever it was probably didn't realise that he was still here. In fact, even he hadn't realised that he would still be there by that time. He blinked when he saw the mass of red entering his room, face falling even harder and colder than usual, and back straightening, trying to put of the front that he was not interested at all in what the red-head was offering. And indeed he wasn't. Well, not love. He wouldn't really mind falling into bed with someone that night, he was so stressed out, and he needed to just let it all go.

However, he was a professional man, and he wouldn't bed any of his colleagues. He watched, imperviously, as Grell tiptoed to the desk and placed her finished paperwork on the pile, before tiptoeing back to the door, a small frown on her face. She was about to step out, leaving William to finish his work in peace, he hoped, when she turned back, a larger frown on her face, her eyebrows looking just as worried, if not more so, than always.

"William," her voice was tired, exhaustion lacing every movement of her body, but she perked up a little when William gestured her closer, in the hopes that he could keep the peaceful environment with as little loudness from her voice as possible. "You look tense. Are you finished with your work?"

"Almost," he responded, pushing his glasses up and eyeing Grell suspiciously. She was being quiet and meek, not at all like her usual self, and he was slightly worried, though only as a supervisor should be. "I have only one form left to complete. If that is all, then you may go, Sutcliff."

"It's not," Stubbornly, Grell planted her feet on the ground and folded her arms, eyeing him reproachfully, and making him feel slightly self-conscious. "I'm going to take you out for a drink, darling. You look simply dreadful, like you need to loosen up a little."

"I do not require a drink, Sutcliff," he rubbed his forehead tiredly, before looking back down to his work. "Please leave as requested."

"I will not. You need to learn to let go, Willy-darling!" Grell moved closer still, pushing her face up into William's and getting him to lean back, eyebrow raised to indicate his reprove. "Fine, if you're not willing to have a drink, I understand. It is late after all… but at least allow me to give you a massage. You look stiff, like you could use it."

Debating internally, William just looked at Grell for a minute, before nodding. Telling her that he was, in fact, not her darling, he continued on with work, waiting as she rounded his desk and chair to start working the knots out of his shoulders. What harm could it do? He was pretty sure that he and Grell were the only two in the building, and it wasn't like he was starting a relationship with her, which would interfere with his work. He was simply getting a service done to him by a worker. Slowly, William relaxed into her touch, leaning into it slightly when he finished his final piece of paperwork.

"Thank you, Sutcliff," he said, before rising, ready to leave for the day. "You may leave now, as I am doing so."

"I don't think you should," she whispered, getting closer and closer to his face, until she was close enough to smell the scent of roses on her, faint and hesitant, but still there, as if she knew exactly how much to apply. Then again, William considered, she did claim to be a lady, so he supposed she should know just how much to wear before it was rendered disgusting. "I think you should stay."

Uncomfortable with the turn in events, William tugged at his tie slightly, before pushing his glasses up and leaning back, trying to get away from Grell's face. It wasn't that he didn't like it – the fact of the matter was that he did like it, far too much, but not in the way that he knew Grell wanted. He felt a lot of sexual attraction to the red-head, but felt for her no more than friendship, and he didn't want to ruin that, as Grell was the closest thing he had to a friend. He knew that she had some friends, some dispatch member named Jorge, along with his secretary Frieda and a lady from General Affairs named Bianca.

Along with this, he knew that Grell cared for him more than friendship allowed for. Yes, there was the sexual attraction, but there was also the fact that she had always confessed her undying love for William, whereas everyone else she met and decided was attractive, was either attractive in the way that required more blood on the outside of their body, or attractive in the way of a one night stand. However, she seemed to be willing him to disregard everything he knew at that point, her face still getting closer to his.

"Sutcliff," he warned, hands raising to her shoulders to push her away. Her hands snaked up and held onto his wrists, causing him to try and drop her shoulders, but fail.

"Why Sutcliff?" She asked headily, leaning ever closer. "Why don't you call me Grell? Why am I never Grell to you, Will, love?"

"Because I don't love you," William pointed out, regretting it slightly when he saw the hurt flash through Grell's toxic green eyes, along with the tears that started pooling there. Hurried, he searched for something to talk about, finally picking up a few strands of her hair and inspecting them, hoping to prevent the tears from falling. "There is ink in your hair."

"Huh?" Dazed, Grell took a minute to work through what he had said, before looking down at it and scowling once more. "Oh, yes. That was Ronnie and Eric's fault. They bumped into my desk and spilt ink everywhere. It was a nightmare. And my brand new waistcoat is ruined."

"I doubt that it is that bad, Sutcliff."

"Please, William," Grell said, leaning in once more, eyes pleading and wide. "Just for once. Just for me. Call me Grell. Can you do that?"

"Fine. Grell-" He had been about to ask her to remove herself from his person, before he lost control and tackled her to the floor, but before he could do that, he found her lips on his own. He grabbed her wrists, which were around the back of his head, and was about to force them down and away, desperate to break the connection and stop something that he would regret from happening, when he realised that he liked what was happening. Forgetting what he had been trying to do, he slipped his hands up around the back of her neck and deepened the kiss, knowing that once, just once, wouldn't do any damage. Couldn't do any damage. Could it?

Grell surprised herself when she connected her lips with William, knowing for all the world that she would never have normally been brave enough to kiss her love. Maybe brave enough to flirt with him, and touch him on the arm or hand, but never brave enough to be so forwards. And now that she had been, she couldn't say she liked it very much. Nothing was wrong with it – it was just the same as all the other kisses that she had had – and that was what was wrong with it. It was just the same. She had always expected her first kiss with William to be warm, and make the world spin and make her forget her own name. That's what Frieda and Bianca had said when they talked about kissing the loves of their lives. But this just wasn't right, and Grell couldn't understand why.

Nevertheless, she carried on doing what she was doing, barely noticing when William removed her wrists from his neck, before drawing her closer and into a deeper kiss, hungrily nipping at her lips to beg entry into her mouth. She gave it to him, clinging to him once again, hoping against all hope that her world-changing reaction was just belated, and that she would feel what she wanted, what she had always needed, to feel.

Before long, she found herself lying on the floor, William above her, and both their shirts gone, William nipping and sucking at her skin and making her feel all kinds of things – but things that she could have felt it she had gone and slept with any random man in the street. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Why wasn't it the perfect moment? Why not? Physically, everything felt perfect, brilliant, just as it was supposed to, and Grell had to admit that William knew what he was doing, making her pant and blush, but emotionally? It wasn't even close to what Grell had been hoping for.

Sighing, and wishing that she hadn't instigated the whole thing, Grell let her thoughts go, losing herself in the feel of William's mouth against her skin, and his hands trailing over her body, undressing both her and him. It wasn't long before there were no more barriers of clothing, and they lost themselves in the physical, Grell only wishing that there was an emotional to go with it. Sure, there was plenty on her side, but William's words echoed around her head, and she got the feeling that she knew why what she had started, and what they were finishing, didn't feel right. _Because I don't love you Sutcliff_. Somehow, Grell suspected, that had everything to do with the problem.

Sometime later, after the both of them had got their breaths back, Grell stirred next to William, sitting up on the floor and leaning over the other man, before falling back down when he sat up and frowned, before standing and going in search of his clothes. While she watched him do this, she was bombarded with items of her own attire, including her ink-spotted shirt, tight trousers and red jacket. Sighing, and wishing William would speak, Grell dressed herself, turning around once done to find a fully dressed and straightened out William, with even his hair perfect once more.

"William," she started, going towards him to hold onto his jacket. But before she could, he stepped back, a slight frown on his face.

"This meant nothing, Sutcliff."

"What?"

"This meant nothing."

"Yes," Grell said impatiently, brushing mussed strands of hair away from her face and walking over to the other man, eyeing him angrily. "But how could you possibly say that? That meant everything. Everything! I finally got what I wanted. You proving your love."

"No, Sutcliff," William said, pushing his glasses up and stepping around her to neaten out his office in lieu of something to do, mostly for distraction. "That meant I exercised poor judgement, and it will not happen again. I was stressed, I suppose," he said, "and I needed a release. You were that release."

"William," Grell could feel her whole world crashing down around her, the delicate structure that she had built up to support her tearing down, while she was still in it, with nothing better to catch herself on but her own, true feelings. Tears pricked at her eyes. "You can't mean that. Please don't say that."

"I do mean that," William walked calmly past her, ignoring her as she watched him mutely in silent disbelief, tears having spilled over, painting her cheeks with sorrow, which, she decided, was the colour black, because that was the colour it stained her cheeks, due to her makeup.

" _Please_ ," Grell said, stumbling after him and catching the door on the way out, making sure that it didn't crush her. "William! Just say you love me. Please. Just once."

William stopped, and a tiny spark of hope flared in Grell's heart, only to be put out when he grabbed her shoulders and looked down on her with such regret in his eyes that it only broke Grell's heart more. Did he really think that she was that much of a mistake? "I'm sorry, Grell," he said instead, turning and walking away as Grell watched after him, jaw dropped open.

Slowly, she sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands as she tried desperately to keep her walls, everything that was protecting her from her reality, up. But it was in vain, and before long she sobbing her heart out, only standing once more when the heaving sobs had turned into little gasps of breath, the tears coming silently. Heading home, she kicked herself for her extremely poor judgement once more, stomping and frowning, and even starting an argument with a cat, on the basis that it was laughing at her misfortune. When it meowed at her impassively, she huffed, before kicking water from a puddle at it, and chasing it down the road with her chainsaw, yelling curses at it. It was only when she realised what a fool she looked like to everyone else that she stopped, turning off at the next road and walking down it a little way until she reached her house.

Finally, she slunk inside, scowling at the orange walls of the foyer. She always scowled at them, but this time she had a little more venom in it than usual, and she scuffed the wooden floor, not caring about turning the corners over on the black and white rug on the floor. This room, save for the jugs that she had placed on the window-sill, which was arched like a church's, and the chairs with the red tartan print fabric over their wooden frames, she had not been permitted to redecorate. Technically, she supposed that was fair. She only owned the massive mansion of a house, with all the paintings and rooms, because she had won it in a bet a year previously. Normally she loved the size and emptiness of the house, feeling like a princess when she roamed the halls, but that night she felt so lonely and cold, like the house was too big for one person. And she supposed it was, but before, she had always liked it like that.

Kicking off her heels, Grell wiggled her bare feet against the cold floor, before padding off down the red corridors, with the white arches and the red ceilings. Anyone else would have said the red was overboard in her house, and normally she would have disagreed, but that night it assaulted her eyes. Maybe, most likely, this was because she didn't feel like herself that night. She frowned at the clock, wishing the time wasn't so late, but glad that she wouldn't have to wake in the morning because it would be a Saturday, and she ignored all the lamps as she passed them, even though she desperately needed them to see properly.

Before long, she found herself in her bathroom, smiling at the familiarity of the red walls and back floor, with the massive chandelier hanging in twisting golden shapes from the ceiling, directly above her plain black bath tub. Drawing the bath, full of hot water, Grell undressed once more and slipped in, relaxing in the water and feeling the tears pouring down her face once more. Moving only once the water became cold, Grell stayed put, wishing her love, her William, would only love her back. But clearly it was not to be. Frowning, Grell rose, eyes dry through lack of tears to cry anymore, and wrapped herself in a towel, even though there was no-one else in the house, before padding off to her bedroom, muttering to herself.

"You're such an idiot, Sutcliff," she said, rubbing furiously to get rid of the sting in her eyes, coming from them drying out. "You should have just left when he told you that he couldn't love you. Why didn't you? You should have. Look where it got you."

Only stopping when she realised that she sounded crazy, Grell stumbled into her room in a tired haze, smiling as best she could at the familiar red walls and the gold-guilt-framed mirror hanging above the fireplace, the other side of her bed. Avoiding the chairs with the red upholstery around the room, and trying not to trip over her desk or rugs in the dark, Grell studied the pictures of her and William on the walls, wishing once more that her dreams would come true.

From her dresser, Grell quickly took her red night-gown, pulling it down and wishing it covered more of her skin, for the night was particularly cold. She started a fire, before climbing under her white sheets and pulling the red curtains around the bed closed, hoping to maintain her body heat. There, her mind drifted to her William, and what her life would be like if only he loved her. Everything would change, and she would love it, as it would have changed for the better. No matter. It wouldn't happen, she knew. But she knew change was coming. Big change. Important change. If only she knew what. Shrugging off the feeling, Grell fell asleep, not realising quite how large a change it was going to be.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: There will be Grelliam later on in the story, I promise. It just needs to get there first. Also, Grell is still a male, I'm just used to using the female prefixes, so that's what I'm going to continue doing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, nor any of the characters, save for Bianca Sheppard, Frieda Irwin and Jorge Payne.

Difficult Love Chapter Two

"Grell Sutcliff, get your lazy arse out of bed!"

A shrill call, paired with the harsh sound of the curtains around her bed being drawn back and the covers being pulled off of her, roused Grell from her slumber. Yawning, she sat up, feeling the stickiness of her eyes and blanching at the black stains on her pillows, before remembering that whilst she had bathed the night before, she hadn't actually bothered to wash her face. Because of this, Grell knew that she had both ruined a new set of sheets, but also alerted the other occupant of the room to her emotional state. Frowning, she glanced around, noticing only a short, pale blur with even whiter hair, and knew that Bianca was standing over her.

Reaching for her glasses, Grell inquired as to the time, before slipping herself out of the bed and padding towards her wardrobe, noting that she needed to pick up her clothes from yesterday and put them in the washing basket. Followed closely by a worried friend, Grell made her way over to her wardrobe, before pulling out a corset and petticoats, and a red velvet dress, which would be perfect for the cold weather when she found a wrap to match it. Quickly ducking behind a screen, Grell slipped the chemise and petticoats on, before calling for Bianca's help lacing up, which was soon finished. After that, she slipped the heavy material over herself, primping and preening at the see-through, puffy sleeves that reached to her elbows, and the fake rose stitched onto the side of her bodice, trying to keep herself from thinking too much. Kicking her train out behind her, she padded out of the room, knowing that Bianca was about to start speaking as soon as given the chance, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for the onslaught of questions that would come from the clever girl behind her.

"Is it just you?" Questioned Grell, instead of divulging any of the information about her mood. "Or are Jorge and Frieda here too?"

"Jorge and Frieda," Indicating her answer, Bianca trailed off, hardly ever finishing sentences that she thought unworthy of ends. "Grell, honey," she said instead, trailing off once more.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Then don't, honey," she allowed, snatching at the redhead's hand and dragging her down a different corridor than the one she had been taking. "But at least let us wash off all that old makeup, hmm?"

Grell stared for a second, then nodded, allowing herself to be dragged down towards the bathroom, wondering if Bianca could already tell what was wrong with her. Bianca had always been her best friend, and whenever she was down she appeared to know what it was, but maybe this time, because it was such a different situation, she wouldn't. Besides, Frieda had always been the one who could comfort people, Bianca often making it worse accidentally, as she always wanted to know all the details. Grell wasn't even particularly sure why she needed all the details, as she never shared anyone's problems. Maybe it was because the woman always thought she could work something out to help, and being the genius that she was, normally she could.

"Was it William?" Tentatively, Bianca probed Grell for answers, turning her head suddenly when Grell stopped and snatched her hand back, looking at the other girl with anger and venom in her eyes, along with distrust.

"I said I didn't want to talk about it."

"I know, honey, I know," Bianca said, creeping towards the other and smiling slightly. "But I need to know what subjects to avoid."

"Just talk about something random then," Grell pointed out, relieved as they finally reached the bathroom and Bianca forced her down into a stool in front of a mirror, before removing her glasses, slipping the chain over her head and tugging slightly as red strands of hair tangled with the beads.

"Okay, how about my dress?" She indicated a green skirt with a white blouse tucked into it, a matching green jacket over the top, with darker green cuffs that were embroidered with a pattern of leaves, the lapels matching, and the top of the jacket joining around the neck to become a turtle-neck item, whilst it stayed split open over the lower half of the blouse. Her hair was pulled back into a loose, low ponytail, still messy, but just as silky and white as always. No one knew why her hair was such an odd colour, but seeing as Grell had an odd colour herself, the redhead never thought to question it. On her head was a green top hat, a green ribbon wrapped around it with a green, fabric feather tucked into it. "It's new."

"It's green, darling," Grell said, squinting at in in the vain hopes of being able to make some of the features out. From what she could remember, it had been rather plain, but then again, she had been wallowing in her misery and hadn't really cared for her friend's new items. "You know what I think about it. Besides that, I can't see it."

"Ah! Of course. You hate the colour green, no?" She smiled, slipping Grell's glasses on and allowing her to see once more, face finally clean. "I should have remembered. Now, for your hair."

Grell smiled faintly, loving the fact that her friend was pampering her. Turning towards the mirror, Grell patted Bianca's hand that was resting on her shoulder, letting the other girl know that the dress suited her, and that she looked good in it, without ever having to open her mouth and admit it openly. Obediently, Grell slipped her glasses off once more as Bianca went for the hairbrush, knowing that her chain would be caught in her hair otherwise.

Before long, Grell had slipped further into her unhappiness, Bianca clearly having trouble reaching the hairbrush. She was a tiny woman, and Grell always kept it on the highest shelf possible. Normally, she would have got up to help, but this time she just sighed, leaning her elbow on the desk and her face in her hands. She couldn't believe what William had done to her the night before. He had lead her on, let her believe that he was lying to her, let her believe that he loved her, before turning around and bringing the whole idea crashing down around her. He had created a whole new world for her, then destroyed it, all within the space of one night. And she hated him for it. But she also wished that she could still have him. Have him to love and hold her. To kiss her and tell her that he loved her, and that everything would be okay. Instead, she had her friends, and while they were the best friends she could ever have had, they were not the same as the love that she wanted from her William.

Slowly, Grell leaned back up, preparing to help Bianca after she asked for the fifth time, but before she could, another woman swept into the room.

"Grell," she said, rather coldly, not realising the melancholy mood that her friend was in. Grell knew she didn't really mean the harsh tone to her voice. It was just that Frieda could be inconsiderate. That, and it was totally obvious to everyone except Bianca, that Frieda was in love with the other girl. "You really shouldn't torture An over there like that."

"She isn't," Bianca said, stepping back as she allowed the taller, slimmer and sharper woman to step in and grasp the hairbrush, before handing it to the smaller, rounder and softer woman. "She's just distracted. Down, even."

"Oh," Frieda looked at Grell with renewed interest, who had gone back to staring into the mirror, frowning at herself. Only this time, she wasn't cursing William. She was cursing herself. For being stupid, and not thinking of the consequences. And of being a man. And of being ugly. And of any other reason she could think of for her love not to love her back. "What is it this time?"

"William," despite the lowered voice of the women, Grell could still hear them, and flinched slightly when they spoke, a few tears pricking at her eyes. Before they could notice them, though, she wiped them away from her cheeks and turned, noticing that Frieda must also have worn a new dress, as she had never seen the long silver hair of the other woman so contrasted before, and noted dully that it was because the other woman was wearing red, a colour which she had never before worn.

"Won't she say any more?" Inquiring about it tentatively, Frieda took the hairbrush back and walked towards Grell, running the brush through the messy, knotted and tangled hair. She dropped the subject after Bianca shook her hair, a worried look on her face, and turned to Grell instead. "Honestly, Red," she said, using the nickname she had always used with Grell. "What have you been doing to your hair?"

"It was William," Grell replied dully, noticing briefly as both the girls shared a look, raising their eyebrows, before setting to work with renewed vigour on Grell's hair. Ignoring the hisses and cries Grell gave when they tugged through her knots, they soon had her hair back to her normally silky state, before they turned her around and split the hair, pulling it into low and loose pigtails, and smiling as they brushed her bangs out from over her eyes.

"There, you look stunning," Smiling, Bianca slipped Grell's glasses back on, rearranging the pigtails until they sat perfectly, and didn't interfere with any of the decoration on Grell's dress. "As always. You're beautiful, honey."

"Thanks," Grell accepted, not even bothering to argue as she stared dully around her, before her eyes fell on Frieda's gown again. It was darling in colour, the middle of the bodice lined with black buttons and made with pink silk, trimmed with gold and then attached to red-wine coloured material that formed the sides and back of the bodice. The material was embroidered with pink and white flowers on the back, their stems tied into an embroidered bow. The underskirt was the same as the bodice material, trimmed with crimped pink material at the bottom, the train spreading out behind her in much the same way. The overskirt was the same pink silk as the middle of the bodice, and the bustle was red-wine coloured again, trimmed with flower embroideries half way down. It truly was stunning. Especially with the way that the simple hat sat jauntily on her head, allowing for the beautiful silver hair to fall down in a high side ponytail.

"That dress suits you, Frieda," she said simply, before standing and allowing Bianca to take her hand again, leading her back to her bedroom, probably in search of a hat for the sakes of propriety, though she didn't much care for them to be honest. "Where's Jorge?" Mild curiosity burned at her, especially after Bianca had said he was there. "He is here, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is," Frieda's voice came from behind Grell, though it was slightly warmer than it had been earlier. "He's in the kitchen, making us some breakfast. We didn't eat before we came to visit, and from the looks of things, neither did you."

"No," Grell admitted, turning through the doorway once they reached her bedroom and heading off and away to sit herself on the red chaise lounge at the foot of her bed, watching as Frieda stripped the pillows with a sigh, and Bianca headed to the walk in wardrobe in search of a simple hat. She returned with a red item that tapered to a point in the middle of the forehead, which was otherwise like a top hat, but shorter. The hat was trimmed with red-wine coloured ribbon, and decorated with three velvet roses at the front, with a red veil hanging down from the back of it. She fixed it to Grell's head using a hat-piece and brought out a simple white wraparound to contrast with the red material of the dress, and deemed Grell fit to be seen, a smile on her face as she grasped Grell's cheeks in her hands.

"Now, come, honey," she said, standing and drawing Grell up again, grabbing Frieda's hand as she dropped all the clothes that she had picked up, and the dirty sheets, into the washing, a frown on her face. "Let's all go and find the dining room. Your house, honey, is like a maze. I don't know how you survive here!"

"With difficulty?" Grell asked, trying to lighten the mood but failing. She stalked down corridor after corridor, the two others following, as she followed her nose to the food. Soon, they were all at the dining room, and Jorge was sitting there, plates of food already in place.

"Hello, ladies," he greeted, a smile on his face, which froze a little when he saw Grell's mood, but brightened up again when he noticed that the girls were already dealing with it, and had a plan. "I see you've decided to play at being 'proper' again?"

"Play?" Bianca demanded, a smile on her face as she took her place next to Frieda. "What do you mean 'play'? We are proper ladies, are we not?"

"Of course," responded Frieda, but Grell just mumbled out a 'yeah', leaning her elbows on the table next to her plate and chasing the food around her plate with a knife. Clearly, Frieda was going to let it slide just this once, but Grell still remembered the first time she had done it in the presence of the other, and her elbows still smarted from the hit she had received from the other woman whenever she thought about it.

"Oh," Disheartened, Jorge took a while to think of something else to say, before lighting up on the one subject that had Grell going for hours, even on her bad days. "This room," he shook his head, as if in disbelief. "I still don't know how you did it, Grell. It's wonderful."

He was right. It was wonderful. And it had taken Grell days to complete to perfection. She had left the ceiling as it had been, the plaster painted gold with family crests of blue and red standing out. The skirting around the ceiling was made of plaster, painted with a bronzed affect and carved in a very decorative and old way. It had taken Grell a great deal of time, but she had been at great pains to get the room lit properly, so a great chandelier hung, unlit, over the middle of the excessively long mahogany table, every seat upholstered in red. And there were a lot of seats. Unlit gas laps with pretty shades were placed on a marble table that sat in front of the windows, which were draped with heavy velvet curtains, tied back with gold rope. The wallpaper was red, with a darker red pattern, and the carpet was red and gold. The fireplace held great decoration, a large mirror surrounded by plaster patterns that looked Greek above it, clocks and vases sitting on it.

Beside it were two smaller tables, with gas lamps on them, and china dogs, which Grell found amusing, and had dug out of the attic of the building. Above them she had circular portraits, which were copies of ones commissioned by Frieda and Bianca, so their faces smiled down from the gold frames. Sconces hung on the walls, lit, and candelabras were lit, two sitting on the table, their design matching those of the sconces. Every platter was silver, and set, and the knives and forks were also silver and set. Crystal glasses stood to attention at every place, and everyone who visited had to admit that Grell had a very good eye for interior design. In fact, considering the fact that they all owned outfits created by her, too, she owned a very good eye for design full stop.

"You always say that," she grumbled instead, clearly not that bothered with how wonderful the place looked, even though she normally found herself enamoured in it, despite having been the designer herself. "And I'm fed up with it. It can burn for I care."

Frieda sighed huffily, finally letting her knife fall to her plate in a clatter, ignoring the fact that she splashed some of her egg yolk onto the table, which was very unlike her. Grell eyed it dully, raising an eyebrow and glancing between the stain and the creator, until with another huff, Frieda wiped it off.

"I've had enough of this, Grell," she finally exploded, normally the kind and helpful one, but this time the stern and questioning one. "What is wrong?" When Grell flinched backwards and stood to rise from her chair, Frieda walked over to the only set of doors in the room and folder her arms, standing in front of them and glaring, Jorge and Bianca following her lead. "If you don't tell us, then we won't let you out."

"I've already told you," Grell whimpered, moving towards them in the hopes of pushing past them, or dashing around them when they let their guard down. "It's William's fault."

"Is this the whole 'he doesn't love you thing' again, Grell? Because that's getting old." Jorge had never really been much for the story of Grell's doomed romance, and he once again showed how little he cared about it, only apologising once Bianca and Frieda glared him into submission and Grell began to sob once more.

"Too damn right it's that thing again," bitterly, Grell spat the words out at Jorge, before walking backwards and sinking into a chair closer to the door, which was at the opposite end of the table than the side they had been eating at. "Only this time, we both made it worse."

"Oh, Grell honey," moving forwards, Bianca enveloped Grell into a hug, whilst Frieda and Jorge slipped closer together, making sure they didn't drop their guard for a second. "What happened?"

"Last night… I-I-I was given overtime-" Jorge interrupted again, a bored look on his face. Grell supposed that he was an awful friend for these situations, but he really cared about how Grell saw herself, and about having fun with the rest of them, so he was good in those instances.

"Is that all?" he said, preparing to move away from the door, only to be stopped by a furious Frieda straight after. "Grell, we _all_ get overtime. In fact, I was stuck on some yesterday… though not as late as yours."

"N-No," Grell said, glaring daggers at Jorge and turning back up to face Bianca and searching the woman's eyes. "No. That isn't it. What went wrong happened d-du-during the overtime. It was f-f-fine before then."

"What happened honey?"

"H-he," She whimpered burying her head into the fresh smell of Bianca and clutching at the other woman as if her life depended on it. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and stopped her sobbing in order to tell her story. "He said he didn't love me."

"He always says that." Pointed out Jorge, putting his hands up in surrender after both the women shot him angry glares. "Sorry, sorry!"

"But then he kissed me!" suddenly, Grell started sobbing, endeavouring to bury her face further into Bianca, even though neither of them thought that it was physically possible.

"Grell, honey," Bianca said, trying to pry the sobbing red mess off of her, before bending down so that her face was looking up into Grell's. "Grell. We don't understand. Isn't that a good thing?"

"Of course not!" The cry of rage was Grell's, and it startled everyone in the room, including the redhead, whose eyes had opened wide to indicate that even she hadn't expected the reaction. "Sorry," she said, quieter. "But I mean… he said he didn't love me… then he kissed me… then it got out of control…"

"Grell," Frieda moaned, rubbing her temples, before coming forwards to wrap the distraught reaper into a hug. "You didn't, did you? You didn't really… and in the office?"

Closing her eyes and nodding, Grell started making odd choked noises, and both the girls realised that she was trying to hold back tears. "Y-yes."

"Oh, sweetie," Frieda said, rocking the redhead back and forth. "And what? After that did he tell you it never happened?"

At Grell's pained nod, Frieda squeezed Grell tighter, telling the redhead to let it all out, whilst Jorge looked more and more embarrassed and Bianca clenched her fists, raging on and on about what a bastard that William was, and about how someone ought to teach him some manners about how to treat his women. Grell, shaking her head, just held in her tears and wrapped her hand around her miniature emotion guard's clenched fist, before loosening it and linking their fingers together. Finally, ages later, Grell had calmed enough to sit up on her own, Jorge having deposited some tea with her, before realising that he had to go and see his girlfriend, so had left.

Sipping at the cooling liquid, Grell turned to the two girls as they sat across from her at the table and started questioning them.

"What should I do? How do I deal with this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ ," Impatiently, Grell glared at Frieda, before sipping once more at her tea. "What should I do to get William to take responsibility for what he has done?"

"Well," thoughtfully, Bianca braided some loose strands of her hair, before pulling them back out of the style again, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. "There's really only one thing to do really."

"What?" Grell eagerly leant forwards, grasping at whatever straws she could.

"Talk to him."

"That's it?" Grell turned to Frieda, who had been the one to say such a simple phase. " _That's_ what you have for me? _That_? I'm not being funny, Riri, but any idiot could have told me that."

"Well, it's the only thing you can do, like we said." Grell snapped her head around to face Bianca again, mouth pulled into an open lipped frown, sharp teeth showing.

"And what if he doesn't let me talk? What will I do then?"

"Then nothing." Frieda started, allowing Bianca to finish off her sentence. "But if he doesn't allow you to talk, then he doesn't realise what an amazing person he has lost, so doesn't deserve your efforts anyway."

Dejectedly, Grell stared down at the cup in her hands, before putting it to her lips and drinking it down in three large gulps, ignoring the burn from the heat of it. Sullenly, she agreed, before looking up again and smiling slightly, trying to push William from her mind. And she had the perfect way to do that.

"I suppose so," she placed the cup down, before standing and leading the way out of the room, gesturing for the others to follow her. "But I've got something to show you. I've finally finished the rooms that you two will use when you come to stay."

"Really?" Excitedly, Bianca ran forwards, pulling a bemused Frieda along with her, stopping only once they had climbed all the way to the top of the house, Grell having stripped out the attic and redecorated it for the exact purpose of using it as a bedroom for Frieda.

"Yes," she said, stepping forwards and putting her hands on the massive white doors, the gold bars of the handles shiny under her fingers. "This is Frieda's room."

With that, she threw the doors open, and both woman's jaws dropped, to her amusement. She supposed she could see where they were coming from, though. The walls were papered with shiny cream coloured paper, gold painted plaster embossing standing up on them, creating beautiful patterns within an outlined square. The floor was tiled with whites, reds and yellows in an intricate design, and the ceiling was decorated with marble slabs, plaster in golden leaf designs coming through it, in a square shape. The chandelier was large and gold, the candlelight from it reflecting from the ceiling and sconces in the shapes of golden flowers glowed on the walls.

The windows curved around with the ovular shape of the room, thin lace curtains covering them, with golden curtains pulled back away from them, small gold tables standing between the windows, large vases holding red roses sitting on them. The bed itself was plush, made with satin sheets and with a large, golden padded headboard, the fixture for the gold bed curtains hanging from the wall above it. Beside the bed, on each side, was a brown, carved, chest of draws, with a gas lamp with a simple cream coloured shade on each one, a picture of herself in red, Frieda in green and Bianca in blue, whilst Jorge wore his usual suit by the beside, the frame small and silver. At the end of the bed was a long footstall with French style legs and a mirror hung on the wall across from the bed, a dressing table underneath, with a stool pushed underneath. It was truly a work of art, and it was clear Frieda loved it, as she rushed in a spun around in the centre, before looking at Grell with tears in her eyes.

"It's so beautiful!"

"And," Grell said, coming to join her friend, before being enveloped into a giant hug, "I didn't use any red for any base colours, only a little in the floor, and that's dull, and I only have red roses as decoration, so I hope you don't mind."

"No," Frieda said, smiling at Grell. "It's absolutely perfect. I love it."

"So glad," Grell said, before dashing over and grabbing Frieda's hand to pull her out of the room, Bianca, who appeared to be floored, jolting out of her reverie and following after the two. They didn't have to travel far. Her room was literally at the bottom of the stairs, Grell throwing the doors open in much the same manner as before.

This room was slightly bigger than the last, the walls once again painted cream, but with large, arching windows at the far end of it, each covered by blinds, which had taken a lot of effort to cut just right. The chandelier hung from a swirling pattern of gold plaster on the ceiling, the outskirts of it also decorated in the same manner. An enormous mirror hung over the white marble fireplace on the right wall, silver pots with ferns growing in them sitting on either side of the fireplace. Opposite from the bed, between the windows, was a carved brown dressing table with a large mirror and candles on the desk, a chest of draws sitting below it, looking elegant and proud. A few sconces in the shape of snowdrops, lit and glowing, littered the walls, and there was a table in the corner, with a tablecloth on it, and two seats, as if the perfect spot for a date. Grell had been thinking about the soon-to-be romance of Frieda and Bianca when she had added that touch.

A large ebony door on the left wall of the room lead to a small en suite, and between that and the door to the rest of the house was a large bed of dark, aged wood that was covered in plush duvets that were decorated in green sheets, the pattern on them beautiful and floral, yet still in the same green as the background. They could only be seen because they were raised, slightly.

"Grell," Bianca said, also running to give Grell a hug. "This is wonderful! I never knew you were such a brilliant designer! And I always thought you were the best! But I swear. No one can top you!"

Laughing slightly, Grell shook her head, before thanking them both and offering to allow them both to spend the night, to which both agreed, also agreeing to help Grell with her talk with William on Monday. During the rest of that day, both Frieda and Bianca worked to help Grell forget her troubles, but they came back to her during the night, forgotten when among her friends on the Sunday. However, Sunday evening came, and Grell knew that she would have to talk to William the next day. But could she do it? Would he listen? She hoped so, but she never knew. And the thoughts of how he might react scared her. Trembling slightly, Grell drifted to sleep, glad that her friends knew what they were doing, and that they had helped her in any way they could.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I'm sorry if the characters are really out of character, though I can assure you that Frieda and Bianca aren't. That is one benefit of using your own creations – you can't be accused of giving them the wrong personality! Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Like I said before, I only own Frieda, Jorge and Bianca and the plotline. Yana Toboso owns the rest.

Difficult Love Chapter Three

Monday morning arrived bright and early, all three Reapers waking at the same time and helping each other into their work attire. Bianca had found a loose green blouse with a large bow around the neck in her room, along with a tight grey pencil skirt which she tucked the blouse into. She slipped the plain black kitten heels onto her feet after placing a thin brown belt with a large gold buckle around her waist, with black earrings hanging from her ears and a large gold ring with a large gold stone onto her finger, a gold watch around her wrist. Grell had helped pull her hair into a tidy, straight ponytail for once, with a few wispy strands hanging down and framing her face.

In her own chest of draws, Frieda had found a simple pink shirt which she tucked into a plain, cream coloured pencil skirt, the top button left undone to reveal the golden chain around her neck. She had a thick black belt with a large gold buckle around the waist and her feet were slipped into black heels with a gold band before the toes, a black blazer slipped on over that. Her hair had been pulled into loose, low pigtails, just as Grell's had been the day before, and her glasses, framed with black, were positioned high on her nose.

Finally, it came to Grell's turn to dress, and she knew that she would have to do a good job for William, as they were finally going to sort out their issues today, or so she hoped. First, she pulled on her tight black trousers and a tight white shirt, before slipping into a black waistcoat and blazer, and opting for a black coat over that, which flared out at the waist. She also wore a black bow, and black gloves, hoping to emphasise the point through her clothing that she was not at all happy. She slipped her usual red and black heels on and pulled her hair into a high side ponytail, before asking Frieda and Bianca how she looked, eating a quick breakfast, then slipping out the door with them, heading for the Reaper Realm.

Before long, Bianca hurried off to General Affairs, leaving Frieda and Grell to walk through the building together, both heading for the same floor. Frieda happened to be William's personal secretary, so was often on standby in the office, which meant that Grell and she could have plenty of chats whenever they liked, providing William was occupied with other things. On their way up, they passed Eric and Alan, who appeared to be arguing. Then again, Grell supposed, it was the first proper interaction the two had had since Eric had stolen one thousand souls and cured Alan of the Thorns of Death, infuriating the smaller brunette, as he didn't like the fact that so many had died for him. The rest of the office, of course, knew Eric had done it because he loved Alan and would rather see the brunette hating him than dead, but Alan appeared to be blind to this fact. Grell hoped he wouldn't be for much longer. She was getting tired of Eric's moping.

Moving on, just as Alan slammed out the door looking confused, Grell and Frieda reached the stairs and headed up, finally deeming it safe enough to talk, as there were fewer people around, and even less that were paying attention to them.

"Just remember," Frieda said, fiddling with her long silver hair, which she had tossed behind her shoulders, still in the pigtails. "You must finish a sizeable portion of your work first, so it seems like you have a good excuse to be in William's office. If you're handing work in and happen to bring up Friday night, then he isn't to know. If you go in with nothing, he'll know straight away, okay?"

"Yes," Grell said, flicking her hair and examining the tips of her gloves, just as she always did, trying to show off. "Basically, I've got to act completely out of character, no?"

"Well... I wouldn't say that. But yes. Basically."

"Thank you, darling," Flouncing on ahead, Grell flew into her office, startling many people with the sound her door made slamming against the wall, before rebounding back into the close position. There, she flew straight to her desk, before getting straight to work, heading out on Reaps when the time came and reporting on them once finished. All her work was done by five o'clock, unusually, and she smiled, hurrying down the hallway and to the desk that Frieda manned just outside of William's door.

"Hello, darling," standing above Frieda, she smiled down, a massive stack of paperwork in her arms. "Does this look like a good enough reason to be visiting William's office?"

"Well, it shall have to do Miss Sutcliff," Frieda smiled up, before vacating her seat and knocking on William's door, entering only once she had received permission. A few seconds later, she returned, looking ever so slightly furious.

"He says that you can't go in."

"What? Tell him that I have to, and it's his fault that I have to or something. He can't ignore me like this!"

"I've already said that you would very much like to talk to him, but he says that he is very busy and that I should take the paperwork and hand it in to him myself."

"Are you going to?"

"What do you think?" With that, Frieda stepped aside and sat down, allowing Grell access to the door. "You can go in and start talking with him, and in a few seconds I will come in and say that you stormed past me, okay? I'm not risking my job for this."

"Fair enough," Grinning, Grell smashed open the doors, storming in and regretting the fact that she had chosen her simple black coat for that day. She was pretty sure that her flowing red coat would have flattered her much more when she stormed into the room than the black one did, but it couldn't be helped in that moment. Smirking as William looked up, Grell bared her teeth a little, looking slightly psychotic, before speaking. "Hello darling!"

"Sutcliff," William nodded, before gesturing towards the pile of paperwork on his desk. Grell put her papers down on top of his, then folded her arms and stared at him, while he raised an eyebrow at her. "I suppose you 'pushed' past Miss Irwin, then."

"Oh, don't give me that, William," Frustrated, Grell leaned down towards him, scowling, eyes glinting and glasses flashing. "You know why I'm here."

"Of course I do," William said, folding his hands together and keeping up his professional front, even when faced with an irate and crazy Reaper. "However, I really needn't remind you that I already told you how things stood on Friday. It was a mistake. I do not love you. We will not talk about it. Gooday. Honestly."

"That's not good enough," Growling, Grell slammed her hands down on the table in front of her love, jolting his hand as he tried to write. He gave little reaction other than to look up at her, eyebrow raised. "You played with my feelings. You made me feel like I was special and then threw me to the dirt. What is it with you? Why the bloody hell do I love you, or all people?"

"I neither know, nor care for the reason why, Sutcliff," Cruelly, William carried on working, ignoring how worked up Grell was getting herself. "Now, you appear to have over-stayed your welcome. Gooday to you."

"William, please," Grell begged, tears forming in her eyes. "I just want a reason. Just one measly little reason."

"I have no reason for you, Sutcliff," William claimed, eyes hard and cold. "Now, get out of my office, please, before I remove you myself."

"Not until you-" breaking off, Grell made a break for it once William summoned his death scythe and started expanding it, storming out of the office and slamming the door, throwing one desperate glance at Frieda, and running from the building. Before long she reached her house and stayed there, cursing and fretting and tugging at her hair, staying that way while Frieda, Bianca and Jorge visited her, cleaning her house and making her dinner as she tipped chairs over in her rage, wishing she could take her chainsaw to it, but not wanting to bother with the repair work it would cause.

Finally, she fell asleep, cursing William and crying out for him at the same time, wishing that he could just give her a reason. Just a little tiny reason. Just some hope, even. Maybe if he had said that he didn't love her, but he cared about her, that it could grow into love, then maybe she would be happier. If he had said that he did that because he was attracted to her, and just needed to get to know her to love her and be attracted to her personality. But no. All he did was use her and throw her away, like so many before him had. Angrily, Grell slept fitfully that night, waking to another day, and hoping for better results.

But better results didn't come. Instead, William locked his door for everyone completely, allowing only Frieda in, and she didn't want to risk her job, so couldn't talk on Grell's behalf. It was infuriating, so Grell finally decided to do something to anger William. She would stop going to work, just to see if he noticed. Bianca and Frieda had both tried to talk her out of her plan, but had failed, so by the next Monday at nine, Grell hadn't even risen from her bed, just lying there and hoping that William would notice.

Monday brought no results, the same with Tuesday, and by Wednesday, Grell was starting to feel very bored. Thursday brought Ronald looking for her, but other than that, no results came. Finally, on Friday, William T. Spears himself arrived, looking very annoyed. Opening the door to him, wrapped in a long, modest nightgown and a red robe, Grell glared at him, scowling furiously.

"What?" She asked, eyeing him and wondering if he had come to apologise and tell her he loved her, or at least that they could talk. Instead, it seemed, he had come to lecture her.

"Sutcliff," he stated, before glancing around and looking back to Grell, shoulders tense. "Can I come in?"

"Hmm, let me think about that," Grell put her finger to her lips as if in thought, pursing them, but then transformed her face into a frown again. "No."

"Sutcliff," William warned, eyebrow twitching from her insubordination. "You are seriously testing my patience. You have not been to work for an entire week, and if there is nothing wrong with you, then you are defying the rules of the Dispatch."

"I don't care," Grell mumbled, before glaring up at William some more. "You're defying the rules of not playing with a poor lady's emotions, but you don't care. So I have every right not to care."

William sighed, pushing his glasses up and glaring at Grell some more, eyebrow twitching in irritation. Finally, he sighed, before closing his eyes and opening them. Probably to see if he is trapped in a nightmare, Grell thought, but stopped after realising that even she was labelling herself as a nightmare now, and if she was doing it, then she had no hope for anything. Furious, she closed the door a few more inches, watching as William narrowed his eyes at her.

"How many times must I tell you, Sutcliff?" William asked, impatience and frustration in his voice, which were the first bits of genuine emotion from him that Grell had heard in a while. "I don't love you. I made a mistake and it won't happen again."

"Well it was one hell of a mistake to make!" Grell yelled, cheeks flushed and fire in her eyes. She let the door fall open, causing William to raise an eyebrow, though Grell couldn't tell if it was at the orange on the walls behind her, or because of the tiny skirt she had on, with the untucked shirt and grey cardigan over the top, a red bow around her neck. Her legs were covered to mid-thigh with grey stockings, leaving only a tiny flash of skin on her legs visible, and she was sitting lower than usual, wearing plain brown pumps on her feet, instead of heels. "You could have made any mistake in the world, William, but you decided that your mistake was going to be playing with my heart."

"Please, Sutcliff." Eyes fixed firmly on her face, William continued, clearly trying very hard not to sweep his gaze further downwards again. "You could hardly love me as much as you say you do. You flirt with everyone. It's no wonder that no one ever takes you seriously. Honestly."

"How dare you," Seething, Grell lowered her head and glared at William, looking like a raging bull ready to charge, having seen red. Then again, this bull's red would have to be black or white, because other than the green of William's eyes, those were the only two colours on him. "How dare you insinuate that I could do anything but love you? For ninety years, William. A whole bloody ninety years. I have cared for you ever since that first Reap we did together. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"Sutcliff-" there was no tone to William's voice, and Grell couldn't tell whether he was about to start apologising to her or start lecturing her, but before he could do either she jumped in again, fury still written in all of her features.

"I don't care what you have to say William," tiredly, Grell swung the door to again, leaning her head and shoulders against it and blinking slowly, eyes trained on the floor. "I understand. It would never have worked out between us. You're too busy with work and I'm too busy being the most detestable creature you've ever met, and you'd have more luck finding a life partner under a rock somewhere, right?"

Again she didn't let William reply, though he looked as though he wanted to.

"Goodbye, William, darling," Slowly she shut the door, looking out with one eye and saying her final goodbyes, or what she thought would be, knowing that William wouldn't feel the need to talk to her after this. "I will always love you, you know. I just wish that you would love me. Even just once. Don't come back here. I won't answer. And no – I am not coming back to work."

And with that, Grell walked away, turning towards the bedroom and ignoring the knocking of her boss and love on the door. Only a half hour later, when Grell was just drifting off to sleep, did the intermittent knocking stop, Grell rising from her bed and twitching the curtain aside a little to watch the love of her life walking down the path, probably never to be seen again. Climbing back into bed, Grell supposed that then was a good a time as any to become a recluse, shutting her eyes and sighing, feeling tears fall as she drifted off to sleep.

It had been six weeks since William and Grell had fought, and he still came every Friday, presumably to try to get her to go to work. She hadn't bothered to answer the door, only allowing Frieda, Jorge and Bianca into her house, and that was only because they owned their own key to the manor. She had just been putting the finishing touches to Jorge's room for when he came to stay, Bianca and Frieda helping her out, when she started feeling nauseous. Putting it down to excessive hunger, Grell dusted her hands off on her dress and stood back, admiring her handiwork, before cursing her stupidity.

Wiping her hands off on her dress had left grey dust stains down the bright red skirt, which was flowing and wide. Her bodice was tight, which was probably another reason for her sick feeling, and laced together, with black trimming at the top and around the waist, floral patterns in the upper right corner of the bodice and the lower left corner. Next to her, Bianca was a massive contrast, with a simple black dress on, the chest trimmed with white lace and the long sleeves expelling white lace at the cuffs. Frieda had a gold and green tartan print on, along with a straw hat tied under the chin with green lace ribbon, a green lace ribbon bow and a pink feather decorating the top as she smiled at their handiwork.

The only thing that had kept Grell going in the last few weeks had been working on decorating and on hair and dresses, so all three of them had interesting hairstyles. Bianca's messy white hair had been pulled into an updo with so many decorations and pins she could have sworn it had morphed from her hair and into a Georgian wig, Jorge having said the same thing with a laugh. Grell's hair was left long and free, while Frieda's silver hair was tracing a line of silver in a braid down her back. Smiling a little at her handiwork, Grell turned to the others, feeling a stronger jolt of sickness as she moved.

"Are you okay, Grell?" Bianca had notice the shade that Grell had turned, which was white and she looked a little like she was keeping something down. Frieda's head turned as well, but Grell just smiled, shaking it off.

"Feeling a little sick," she admitted, voice taut like a wire. "Probably just having to sit in a room of this colour for so long, though."

"Of course," Frieda replied, tight-lipped smile in place, though she still looked concerned, keeping one eye on Grell as she inspected the room around her.

It was very simple, with blue-grey walls and large, white double doors with windows in the top leading into the corridor. Grell had claimed that it was because she needed at least a little red in the room, but the girls knew that it was because she simply could not be bothered to change the original doors. The floor was polished wood and the fireplace was white stone with black marble decoration, a brass, peacock shaped guard in place, a large mirror above the mantelpiece. A dresser and mirror sat in one corner, by the window, which was framed with floral curtains, and a small table and chair sat in another corner, a painting of all three of them together hanging above it. The chandelier was simple, another light hanging above the chair, and the bed had a blue floral print cover, with a white padded bench at the end of it. There were no curtains around the bed, and both girls had to admit that while still a lovely room, it lacked Grell's usual flare, and therefore indicated her sadness.

Despite knowing about her sadness, though, both women were at a loss of what to do. What could they do, really, when the one thing that Grell wanted in all the world didn't want to be with Grell? They supposed they could force him to talk again – stand strike until he agreed to have a proper sit-down with her and talk it out, have a heart to heart. But they knew it would never happen. The two girls were about to suggest that they bring Jorge in to view his room when Grell's hands flew to her mouth and she turned positively green, before flying for the door and reaching the bathroom only just in time, emptying her stomach into the toilet just as Frieda and Bianca burst into the room.

Sharing confused looks, Frieda grabbed Grell's hair and pulled it away from her face, while Bianca sat next to her and rubbed her back, before asking if Grell was okay. It took a few minutes, but finally the feeling of extreme nausea passed, left only with a little discomfort.

"Are you okay Grell?" Bianca asked, concern in every line of her body. "Reaper's don't normally get sick. Something must be really wrong for you to be throwing up like that."

"I'm fine," Grell disagreed, smiling weekly at the two. "I ate a whole box of Jaffa Cakes this afternoon, right after the lunch that you two left in my kitchen. I guess that must be what the problem is. Just too much in my stomach."

"If you say so," Frieda said, before helping Grell up and watching as the red Reaper cleaned her face, before turning to the others and smiling a little, demanding that they go in search of some more Jaffa Cakes to wash the nasty taste of sick from her mouth. Eyeing her suspiciously, the other girls followed after her, standing by her as she ate another entire box of Jaffa Cakes in one sitting and then turned to them, seemingly right as rain.

"How can you eat that many?" Bianca asked, gesturing to the empty wrapper that was burning merrily away on the fire, having been thrown there by an annoyed Grell, who had to be physically restrained by Jorge so that she wouldn't go up in search of more.

"I don't know," Grell said, tugging at Jorge's arms experimentally and picking at her dress, frowning at the grey stains again. "I just woke up with a craving for the things today. I mean… I never really liked them that much before but… I guess grief does this to you?"

"Yes," Frieda agreed, patting Grell's hand and standing up, heading towards the kitchen to collect all the rest of the Jaffa Cakes, deciding that she would allow Grell only one packet a day, if that. "That must be it. Grief."

"Just don't forget to work out." Bianca winked, allowing Jorge to let go of the redhead once Frieda had left the room. "You don't want to get fat, now, do you honey?"

"No way," Grell said, looking personally affronted at Bianca's small joke. "You have a cruel sense of humour, An. I don't think it's funny to joke about my weight. Especially when you and Frieda both know that I had a little difficulty putting this ridiculous corset on, which fit easily last month."

"Sorry," Bianca had the grace to look sheepish, before brightening up a little. "But look on the bright side. Now you can throw that ruined dress away with no regrets."

"I suppose," Grell agreed, though she looked as though she wanted to burst into tears. "But I don't want to. I always liked this dress."

"Well," Frieda said, entering the room again, bags full of Jaffa Cakes in her hands and a questioning look about just how many Grell had bought of the damn things in her eyes. "As lovely as this is, I just realised the time. It's almost ten."

"Oh, wow," Bianca said, eyes widening. "We really have to be off then. We have work in the morning, even if you don't, honey. Are you sure you're not going to be sick again?"

"I'm sure," Grell insisted, eyes fixed to the Jaffa Cakes. Worried about the redhead going to spring on them, Bianca hurried around the room, snatching up her wrap and bonnet before putting them on and hurrying Frieda towards the door, Jorge trailing after them. "I feel much better now."

"In that case," she said, leaning up to kiss Grell on the cheek, before smiling at her and clasping her hand. "Have a nice night. We'll see you tomorrow afternoon, yes?"

"Goodnight," Grell smiled, before closing the door on them and yawning herself, heading off to sleep, still furious that they had taken all her lovely, lovely Jaffa Cakes. Sulking, Grell fell asleep quickly that night, dreams of teddy bears coming to life and dancing in front of her eyes, along with one that appeared to have been savagely mauled by something with very similar teeth to hers. Despite the oddity of her dreams, they didn't disturb her too much, and she didn't cry out, forgetting all about them by the next morning.

Five days had passed since Grell had finished decorating Jorge's room, and since then Bianca, Jorge and Frieda had been coming in turns. That had been a Monday, and Bianca had been the first to come, holding Grell's hair back when she threw up again, and bringing some more Jaffa Cakes, which caused a huge smile to come to Grell's face, though she was still complaining about gaining weight. The same happened with Frieda on Tuesday, and Jorge on Wednesday. When Bianca came again on the Thursday, nothing had changed, and now that Frieda was here, Grell was trying to pretend that she had stopped throwing up.

"I'm fine," she insisted, picking at some lacing on her longer, more modest nightgown, finding that the little one was starting to show more leg than usual, and strain a little over her stomach, which was annoying her and making her feel very self-conscious about her weight. Despite this, though, she just couldn't stop eating the Jaffa Cake packets that were brought to her. "Honestly, I haven't thrown up since you came on Tuesday, Riri. Now… where are my Jaffa Cakes?"

"Don't," Frieda said, running a hand down the plain black silk of her dress, lifting the see-through black veil from her face and studying Grell hard. The only problem with her outfit, Grell decided, was that it made her laugh, because she couldn't decide if her friend looked like Queen Victoria or like Undertaker. Either way, it didn't work out in Frieda's favour. "I know you've been unwell for the last two days, Grell. Jorge, An and I actually talk, you know."

"Fine," Grell huffed, standing up and snatching the bag that Frieda was carrying and searching for it in search of her delectable treat. "So what? I'm feeling fine today…" she broke off suddenly, having dumped the contents of the bag all over her bed and finding no orangey treats. "Where are they?"

"Where are what?" Frieda asked, eyes open innocently wide, which just made Grell narrow hers in suspicion.

"You know what! Give me my Jaffa Cakes."

"After six," Frieda decided, checking the clock to see that they had fifteen minutes to go, and then Grell's face, only to see the queasy expression on it. "You normally throw up at six, then eat to your heart's content."

"I don't care," Growled Grell, though there was less venom in it than there otherwise would be, if she hadn't started to become rather pale and clutch at her stomach. "I want them now. Please, Riri."

"No," Frieda said politely, before going over to Grell's desk and sitting in the chair before it, eyes on the clock as she watched Grell get peakier and peakier, determined to prove her point. "You can have them when you feel better."

"I feel fine-" Grell's whining statement was cut off as she threw her hands to her mouth and dashed out of the room, red robe flying out behind her as she headed for the bathroom, sighing in frustration and leaning her head on her arms as Frieda brushed the hair away from her face. "Fine," she said moodily, "So I don't feel fine. So what?"

"That's it," Frieda decided firmly. "I don't care what you say, Grell. I'm taking you to the hospital. Reapers don't just get sick, and especially not for five days running, not without it being serious."

"Do we have to?" Grell asked, standing up and wiping her face, before heading back to her bedroom, scowl on her face. "I'm sure the doctor's will say that I'm fine. There can hardly be a thing wrong with me because I feel fine the rest of the time. Also, I don't want to see the outside word again."

"I don't care." Firmly, Frieda pushed Grell onto the bed in her room, before turning to the walk in wardrobe and picking out some items, including Grell's normal shoes, a hat and a dress. "If the doctors say that you're fine, then I will accept that and you'll hear no more from me. If they don't then… well. We'll get you help, okay?"

Grell still looked petulant, so Frieda bribed Grell into getting dressed with the Jaffa Cakes, and that worked a treat. Slowly, Grell pulled her dress on, frowning again at the tightness of the corset, which was just slightly more so than normal, and the extravagance of the hat that Frieda had chosen. It appeared to be one that Madam Red had given Grell in a bout of generosity.

Whilst putting her makeup on, Frieda spoke up, clearly meaning to be talking only to herself. "It's funny, you know. If you were An, say, then I might have said you were pregnant, the way your symptoms add up."

"Yes," Grell agreed, face falling back into her habitual scowl that she had worn for months now. "But I'm not, and I'm trapped in the stupid body of a male, so I couldn't possibly be pregnant, I know. There's no need to rub it in."

"I'm not trying to rub it in," Frieda pointed out, before giving up upon seeing the dubious look on Grell's face. "Never mind," she said instead, dragging Grell out of her room and out of the house completely, for the first time in months. "Let's just get this over with. Come on."

With that, she locked the front door and created a portal to the Shinigami hospital, handing Grell the Jaffa Cakes as she did so.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note**_ : All the ideas about the MPreg in this story are my own, so they obviously don't conform to any rules that may be about. Well… other than the fact that a man is pregnant, which is generally what MPreg is. Don't worry. I said it was a Grelliam story, and it will be. You're just going to have to wait a while. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, only the characters Frieda Irwin, Francisco Hood and Elizabeth Massey.

Difficult Love Chapter Four

William gritted his teeth as he put weight onto his bandaged leg, having been injured in a Reap that would have gone a lot better had Grell actually bothered to show up. But she hadn't, which wasn't surprising. She hadn't been showing up for a month and a half, and many people had thought that she didn't even work there anymore, the rumour among the younger ones being that she had retired, whilst the older Shinigami thought that she had been fired. William knew that it was neither, that she was just being negligent of her work.

Before long, a disturbance in the hallway caught his attention. Many people were gasping, and when he looked up, he knew why. The Red Reaper had decided to show her face again, though why in the Hospital he didn't know. Maybe, seeing as Miss Irwin was with her, dressed in some sort of mourning attire, though William couldn't fathom why, she had heard the news that he had been injured, and come to apologise and lavish her affections all over him. If that was the case, then she might as well turn around then, as he wasn't going to allow any of that sort of behaviour.

Besides, he would rather avoid her, as she was so bright and flamboyant looking that she would draw attention to him, and he absolutely hated when she did that in a hospital. Her dress was wide, in the fashion of a few decades earlier, and her bodice was ruffled and striped in black, stripes of brighter red running around her skirt. She had a gold and purple necklace around her neck, and on her head, over her hair that had been pulled into a messy bun, sat a large red hat with a large, fancy white feather poking out of the top.

William raised an eyebrow, wondering why she decided that wearing such an outfit was a good idea when she clearly didn't want to leave the house, or be seen doing it. Then again, he wondered, did she even have any conspicuous clothes? Shaking his head, he travelled further forwards, raising his eyebrow at her as she munched away on a Jaffa Cake, looking furiously at Miss Irwin whilst huddling closer to the woman. Clearly, she didn't want to be here any more than he did.

Suddenly, their eyes connected, and William raised an eyebrow at her, trying to communicate silently that he didn't understand why she was there, but then decided that seeing as she was the reason he was there, she didn't deserve his courtesy, and scowled at her instead, though he wasn't sure if his expression changed much, except for the slight narrowing of his eyes. His expression rarely ever moved, after all.

Grell, after seeing his limp, and the good grace to look sheepish, though not particularly sorry. But it wasn't long before he found out why. She looked peaky, and she broke her eye connection with him to tug on Miss Irwin's sleeve, before saying something to her quietly. William stopped, wondering what they could be talking about, but before he could work anything out, Grell's eyes widened and she turned green, before bending over and expelling the contents of her stomach all over the floor.

Many Reapers jumped back at this, scattering this way and that in surprise, meaning that he got himself pushed to the back of the crowd, still able to see her, but he doubted she could still see him. She was wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, pulling at the material of her skirt and turning to Miss Irwin to complain, presumably, wide-eyed. Miss Irwin was on the floor next to her, brushing her hair away from her face and rubbing her back, soothing her as she leaned against the other for comfort. Clearly, something was wrong with Grell. Reapers just did not get sick in that way, not without it being serious. Casting one last glance at the doors of the hospital, William turned away from them and decided to hide out in the hallways for a little while, in the hopes of catching Grell and finding out what was wrong with her.

Grell stood shakily, not having expected to throw up the way she did, and not at the time she did. Worse, she had ruined not only the hospital floor, but also her dress and Frieda's. It wasn't long before a nurse, a pretty little thing with chocolate coloured skin and short black hair, rushed over to her, leading her away from reception and into a cubicle, allowing Frieda to stay with her and telling her that she would be right back with the doctor, before scurrying off again.

"That doesn't normally happen," Grell's eyes pleaded with Frieda, as if hoping that the other woman would be able to take away the problem. "I promise."

"I believe you, Grell, sweetie," Frieda clasped Grell's hands and gave a reassuring smile, standing only when the doctor came through.

"Hello," he said, smiling warmly and coming over towards Grell, "My name is Doctor Francisco Hood, and this is Nurse Elizabeth Massey. Please, call me Doctor Franc-"

"And me Nurse Liz," the younger Reaper butted in, smiling warmly, looking very similar to the doctor when she stood next to him. The only difference was, Doctor Franc had longer hair than Nurse Liz, the rest of them practically identical. It was pretty odd, though, as you could tell that they weren't related at all.

"Yes, yes," Doctor Franc laughed, eyes crinkling behind his glasses as he smiled, coming closer to Grell and leaning over to start poking and prodding at her. "And she's Nurse Liz. Now, we're just going to do some tests to see what's wrong with you, okay, Miss..?"

"Sutcliff," Grell said, leaning away from the doctor slightly. "My name is Grell Sutcliff. And if you wouldn't mind, could I have something else to wear? I smell like sick. And so does Riri."

"Of course," Looking to Nurse Liz, Doctor Franc nodded, before going back to poking and prodding at the redhead, annoying her to no end but her allowing him to go along with it. There was even a part where they asked her to pee into a pot, which she wasn't very happy about. But she was also allowed to change into a white night gown there, so she accepted, Frieda also handed a gown and told to change, and that their dresses would be cleaned by the time they needed to leave the hospital.

An hour had passed since they came to the hospital by the time all the tests were finished, and a further half hour had passed since then. Grell was beginning to get both tired and restless, sighing and shifting every few seconds, whilst also talking sleepily, ready to drift off. Next to her, Frieda was the same, getting up only once to bring back some Jaffa Cakes, which she had asked to share, but had only been able to snaffle one before Grell had hogged them all, smiling to herself.

Late at night, Grell was finally awaked by a light but insistent shaking, which was being given to her by Frieda, the Nurse and Doctor standing over her, clearly prepared to give news. Not only that, but they looked very solemn.

"Oh God," Was Grell's first thoughts as she woke up, sitting up slowly and switching her gaze from one to the other. "I'm dying. You were right Riri. I'm not going to make it."

"Oh, no, Miss Sutcliff," The doctor said, cracking a smile while Nurse Liz tittered behind her hand. "I'm afraid that the news is rather better than that, though not everyone takes it that way."

"Please," Grell's voice came out muffled as her face was buried in her hands, but she peeked out from between her fingers to watch the medics. "Just tell me."

"Now, miss," Nurse Liz trilled, stepping forwards and taking Grell's hand, before smiling softly. "Don' take this the wrong way, but we would like ta know if you're a male, over a female."

Grell, insulted and outraged, ranted for a good few minutes, but gave the nurse the answer she required, staring at both of them suspiciously, before stopping, but only because of Frieda's warning grip on her shoulder. Relenting, Grell leaned back, waiting for the nurse to continue.

"Well then," she said, in her pretty little chirp. "There are a few more rules than a normal situation would call for you ta learn, but other than tha' you're good ta go, Miss."

"Good to go with what."

"Well, you're pregnan', aren' ya?"

Stunned, Grell opened her mouth to disagree, to point out that while she dressed as a woman, she still had a male body and that they had to have it wrong, but no words came out. Frieda, next to her, was in much the same position. Across from them, the doctor was smiling, eyes crinkled as he soothed her with explanations of how there were a few, rare, fertile male Reapers, but about how there were rules to their fertility. First, they had to be at least one-hundred years old for it to take effect, which was probably why Grell had never been affected by it before. Second, they had a limit to the child amount, which was thirteen. This seemed a bit of a laugh to Grell to start off with, asking who could ever need thirteen children, until Doctor Franc pointed out that no matter how hard the 'mother' tried to stop it, thirteen children were always born, no matter what. Third, the rule was that often, many babies were born at once. There could be anywhere from one to five babies in the womb at once time, and they were always fraternal, never identical, though they could be all girls or all boys.

"You mean," Grell demanded weekly, looking down at her stomach, "that there could be _five_ of the little buggers in here?"

"Yes, miss," Nurse Liz said, squeezing Grell's unresponsive hand. "That's exactly what we mean."

"I'm sorry," Grell whispered, putting her hands up to rub her temples. "And you're quite _sure_ I'm pregnant? This isn't some nasty trick?"

"No, no trick, we assure you." Doctor Franc laughed, patting Grell's leg through her nightgown.

"Thirteen?"

"Sorry?" Frieda asked, wondering if the news had shocked her friend beyond all bounds of sanity and had turned her into a jabbering wreck.

"I _mean_ ," Grell huffed impatiently, eyes searching both the medic's eyes. "That I get no choice? I will have thirteen children in my lifetime, and that is final? I can't just opt out after three or so?"

Nurse Liz then pointed out that opting out after three would be a bad idea anyway, when she could be carrying five right at that point, which made Grell's already pale skin turn even paler, and Frieda snapped at the nurse for scaring her.

"But…" Looking down, Grell drew her knees up, curling in on herself. "But how am I supposed to look after even one child on my own? Let alone five?"

"What do you mean?" Concerned, the doctor leant forwards, eyes searching Grell's.

"I mean," Grell was seriously about to lose her patience, and she held onto Frieda's hand to calm herself a little. "That their father wants nothing more to do with me. So how am I supposed to look after them on my own?"

"Well, there are several options open to ya, Miss Sutcliff," Nurse Liz pointed out, smiling slightly and clearly trying to reassure the mother-to-be. "There's adoption after the birth, or you go' abortion, though many people don' like that one."

"No way, in hell," Growled out between gritted teeth, the red Reaper's words were rather hard to understand. "Am I going to kill or give away my children. No."

Shaking her head to emphasise her point, Grell leaned back and closed her eyes, stretching her legs out again and rubbing her stomach, not quite sure what to think of the miracle that had occurred. She had always wanted to be a mother, and now she could be. She had always wanted to be the mother of William's children, and now she could be. But then again, she had always wanted William to be a big part of the children and her lives should that fantasy ever come into play, but that was very unlikely to happen. Supposing she couldn't complain, Grell sighed and cracked her eyes open to look at the medic's, closing them again when they gave her a moment to digest what she had learnt.

She was pregnant, she knew, and with up to five children. That was terrifying, she knew. William, the love of her life and the father of her children, without even realising it, had abandoned her to look after up to five children, all on her own. And if fertile males had to have thirteen children, then who on earth would father the rest of them? Or would she and William have more nights like the one they had shared months ago, her not feeling loved, but him probably enjoying the pleasures of the body. Frustrated, she growled, feeling a few tears slip down her cheeks, and Frieda's hands run through her hair.

"Riri," she whispered, reaching up to clasp a hand of the silver haired Reaper woman. "You'll help me, won't you? I can't do it alone."

"Of course I will, Grell, sweetie," Frieda promised, brushing at the tears on Grell's cheeks and placing a kiss on her forehead, before engulfing her in a hug. "I wouldn't leave you alone in this. And neither would Jorge and Bianca. We all know how much you've always wanted children."

"Thank you," she whispered, tears still falling as she buried her head into Frieda's shoulders. "And I hope you guys can help me work out what to do. I may have always wanted children, but I think I must be the least prepared mother in all of history. I never actually expected children, you see?"

"I know, I know, sweetie," Frieda said, stroking her hand down Grell's hair, which had escaped from the bun it had been in earlier. "But you're going to do fine. Every mother feels the way you do now before their first child is born."

At that, Grell broke down again once more, sobs coming more loudly from her chest, making it hard for her to breath. "But I shouldn't be alone! I know I have you! But I can't believe that William would leave me alone in all this. And they're his children. He needs to know at some point. But he won't talk about it with me."

"Then don't tell him."

"What?" Blinking, Grell was stunned out of her crying long enough to rub at her eyes behind her glasses and wonder what on earth Frieda meant.

"I said don't tell him." Frieda said, reasonably. "Only give him the information if he asks about it himself. If he's going to get your pregnant and then just ignore you like you're so much dirt, then he doesn't deserve to know about his children."

"That's cruel," Grell pointed out, eyes slightly dryer now that she was distracted again.

"Life is cruel," Frieda pointed out, before lowering herself to sit on the bed beside Grell and hug her tighter. "And William was cruel. This is only revenge. And only for as long as you think you can stomach it. But I saw him here earlier, so maybe, if you go to work on Monday, then he might ask you about it."

"I suppose you're right," Grell allowed, before falling back on her pillow and curling up slightly on her side. "But we don't need to stay here overnight, do we? I'm tired and I want to know if I should sleep or not."

"Best not," Frieda yawned, she herself very tired too. "We're just waiting for our dresses, then we can leave. It's a shame that there's no technology to tell if it's a girl or a boy, or how many there are in here. I'd love to know."

"I hope there are no more than three, at most," Grell said, smiling slightly and rubbing her stomach, before turning to face Frieda. "And they're girls. All of them. I just know it."

"Whatever you say," Frieda patted Grell's hand, smiling back tentatively. "Whatever you say."

William watched from the shadows outside Grell's room, not understanding what he was seeing. The Doctor and Nurse had been talking to Grell for a very long time, her face getting paler and paler and more and more confused for a long while, but only after she had had a long, sharp talking to with them beforehand. After that, they had left, talking to themselves brightly and excitedly, saying that she was 'the first one they'd had in a long while', causing William to become even more confused.

Once they were gone, he tiptoed, still limping, towards the door, peering in closer, only to find Grell crying, before she was embraced by Miss Irwin and they started talking, Grell rubbing her stomach a lot and frowning, before rubbing it some more and smiling, presumably from something that Miss Irwin had said. At a guess, William would say that the stomach rubbing was from discomfort from nausea. She had thrown up earlier, after all. Deciding that whatever was wrong with Grell couldn't be terribly important, otherwise the Doctor's wouldn't be excited and Grell wouldn't be smiling, William left for the night, not realising just how much his life was about to change.

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the really bad ending, I just wasn't entirely sure how to end it. It is the last of three chapters written in one day and I exhausted my creativity, I think, and I can't figure out how to change it now. Also, the male Reaper pregnancy thing does have some reasoning behind it. The pregnancy for a male could be considered a curse by some, but magical by others, especially if all of that number had to be born, so I chose a total number of thirteen, as thirteen can be considered a magical and cursed number. Along with this, in the grand scheme of things, if you're going to live forever, thirteen children doesn't appear to be that many. Along with this, five children at once also gives it a cursed and magic touch, seeming very unusual, just like the pregnancy of a male is in the Reaper realm (in my stories). Furthermore, I felt that, seeing as some humans can give birth to eight children or more at a time, that in comparison, it didn't seem so many. Also, something needs to cause Grell worry in the story, especially if everything else will go her way eventually… or will it? Hope you enjoyed. Thank you for Reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I only own some of the minor characters in this chapter, such as Courtney Reid and Michael Lord. Yana Toboso owns the rest, save for the plotline.

Difficult Love Chapter Five

The Monday after Grell's trip to the hospital, where she had first found out she was pregnant, she decided to go back into work. She desperately needed to speak to William after all. Despite what Frieda had said about her not telling him, about how he needed to be taught a lesson, she just couldn't do that to her William, which was why she found herself standing in front of the Dispatch Building in a white shirt and short grey and red chequered skirt, which barely reached mid-thigh. She had a black bow around her neck and a pair of thick white tights on, red heels on her feet and a red cardigan on over her shirt. Seeing as she had to tell William some big news that day, she was definitely going to do it whilst still looking her best. Also, if she was wearing a skirt, it would probably be easier for him to digest the fact that she was pregnant.

Before she could get to him though, she was going to have to navigate her way through the halls of Dispatch without major incident, which was likely to be hard considering the fact that she hadn't been to work for two months, and was likely to be swarmed by many of the secretaries and the ladies in General Affairs, and was also likely to pick up a large amount of overtime.

Sliding her bag back up her shoulder, despite normally not needing to bring one, she reached in for a few Jaffa Cakes, munching her way through them as she stepped into the Dispatch building with a deep breath, feeling as nervous as she had when she had been standing before William and his judging gaze after her brief stint as Jack the Ripper. Only, this time it was worse, because William could choose to get involved, or he could abandon her, whereas before there was no way for him not to be involved, as he was the one who had come to get her. Slowly, she walked through the reception area, keeping her head down and hurrying, ignoring it when some of the ladies called her name. She desperately needed to talk to William, and couldn't be distracted.

Finally, she made it to her office and sat in her chair, ready to work, before realising that there was no work on her desk to be done. She had been gone for so long that no one expected her to return for a while, so had taken all the work and divided it between the other workers, including Jorge. She had heard him complaining a few nights beforehand, and felt a small twinge of guilt, before shaking it off and reaching into her bag for another Jaffa Cake, finishing it and emptying her bag on the table, regretting the fact that she had only brought two tubes of Jaffa Cakes. Smiling softly, she reached down and rubbed her stomach, wishing that it didn't strain so much against her skirt, before speaking to it.

"You really do love your Jaffa Cakes, don't you?" She asked, wondering for the hundredth time that day just how many little babies she had inside of her. Was there one? Two? Five? She hoped not. Especially if William was going to say no to helping her. She had a feeling that he would, but not because he was being mean. He wouldn't believe her, she knew, about the pregnancy, and would think that she was trying to get his attention. She was a man in body, after all. Only after she started showing would it be obvious that she wasn't lying, and then he may help her. William was an honourable man after all, if a cold one.

"I mean, I don't even like Jaffa Cakes all that much," she continued, rubbing her stomach again.

"You're eating an awful lot of them for someone who doesn't like Jaffa Cakes, Sutcliff," William's stern voice caused Grell to jump, and she looked up to meet her love's angry glare as he stalked into her office. "I see you're feeling better, then?"

"Better?" Confusion coloured Grell's voice until she remembered that William had been in the hospital the night before, and she quickly nodded, before jumping straight into the task of getting William to speak. "William," she started. "We have to talk. It's about that night a few months ago."

William made an irritated sound in the back of his throat, pushing up his glasses with his scythe and preparing to speak before Grell jumped in and cut him off. "And I'm not trying to get you to give me an explanation, William. There's something else that we have to talk about. I swear it. I'm not trying to get into your heart of pants or whatever else you think it is this time."

William stared at Grell for a few seconds, measuring the truth of what she said behind her eyes, before deciding that she was telling the truth. Nodding to show his consent, he told her to come to his office at the end of the day and talk to him there, before turning back into his supervisor mode and telling Grell what she would be doing for the rest of the day.

"You are to be working with the rest of the new recruits," he told her, standing straight and tall, all alone, and making Grell wonder if he would ever let anyone else stand up with him, to face the world together. "You will not be going on any Reaps for the next few days, and you are to be helping any on overtime finish their paperwork, is that understood?"

"But William…" Grell whined, eyes big and as sweet as she could make them behind her glasses. "The doctor told me that I mustn't overdo it last night. He said that if I did then I could hurt it."

"Hurt what?" William asked, before pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in exasperation and tiredness, despite it being only early in the morning. From the heavy shadows under his eyes, Grell could make an educated guess that William had been working late into the night the day before, and she hoped that she didn't shock him into some fatigue and surprise induced coma when she gave him the news. "Actually, don't bother telling me. I don't want to know. Just get on with your work, Sutcliff. I'll send a new recruit in that you will be helping out today in around five minutes. Honestly."

With that he walked out, pushing his glasses up once more and shaking his head. Clearly, the stress of the understaffed office had been getting to him, and Grell felt a stronger sense of guilt than she had earlier, but knew that she couldn't do anything to change it then. The past was in the past, and unless someone came to her, miraculously, with a time machine so that she could go back and talk some sense into her past self, she could do nothing about it. Sighing, she leaned her elbows on her desk and picked up another Jaffa Cake to chew on, whilst waiting for the newbie that William had said he would bring in.

Finally, ten minutes later than William said the Reaper would be in, he came. He was fairly tall, only an inch taller than Grell herself, and he seemed to be rather arrogant, if she had anything to say about it. His skin was tanned and his eyes were the same green as every Reaper, though he had chosen a coffee brown for his glasses frames, which confused Grell. If you could have any colour on the planet for your glasses, why on earth would you choose a colour you could see every time you looked at your feet in the street and in the garden or countryside? It did not make sense to Grell. His hair was shoulder length and dark brown, to match his glasses, and French-braided down the centre of his neck. His clothes appeared to be rather dirty, covered in grey dust, and Grell worried that she would also get her clothes covered in dust. That had not been the plan for her clothes when she had picked them out for the day, and she bit her lip in worry. Finally, after staring at each other with raised brows for thirty seconds, the younger Reaper spoke first.

"You ready, ol' timer?" He asked cheekily, causing Grell's cheeks to heat up in anger. She didn't look that old, did she? "Bet you ain't used to working with us fitter lads, are ya?"

"Old timer?" Grell growled, standing up and coming around her desk to bring her face close to the newbie's and bare her teeth. "Fitter? I'll have you know that I'm one of the fittest Reapers in this building. I was Jack the Ripper. Only just got off of the Death Penalty because of our lovely Mr Spears."

"Couldn't ha' been tha' good, could ya?" He asked, folding his arms and looking unimpressed with Grell's display of anger. It was almost as if she were a little kitten hissing at a dog to him, she supposed. She could do nothing but amuse the larger beast. "Else ways, ya wouldn' 'a been captured in the firs' place."

"It was a demon that beat me up," Furious, Grell turned away from the other reaper, satisfaction dawning on her when she heard his sputtering due to her hair whipping into his face. Moodily, she stalked in her heels to her desk, swishing her hips and picking up a few more Jaffa Cakes that she could eat, still craving the orangey treats. "Willy-darling just dragged me off by my lovely, lovely hair."

"Well, I wouldn' 'a been beat by a demon," he boasted, before noticing the Jaffa Cakes and going to take one, only to be met with the still blade of Grell's scythe as she summoned it to her hands, ready to fend off anyone that took her babies' treats. "Aw, c'mon ol' timer. You don' need so many o' them yummy treats, do ya? I mean, look, you're startin' to strain your shir' there."

Despite knowing that the kid was doing it to get a rise out of her, and knowing that the only reason her shirt and skirt were straining slightly was because of the babies she was carrying around with her, it still hurt to be called chubby, and she felt tears pricking at her eyes as she gritted her teeth and stalked past the big-shot newbie and stabbed her heel into his toes, hoping to illicit a great amount of pain in him.

Sadly, Grell munched on another Jaffa Cake, though her heart wasn't really in it, and made a mental note to complain to William about the recruit later. Stepping out of the office and waiting for her guide for the day, Grell wondered at the universe's ability to hand her the worst and gift everyone a good time. Even Alan, though he didn't realise it through his anger at Eric, had something good handed to him from life. He would no longer die, because he had someone who loved him so deeply that they would commit any sin for him. In fact, he didn't just have something good, he had two good things.

Ronald had the good fortune to be fancied by every woman out there, and because he was a bit of a ladies man, that was brilliant for him. Seeing as appeared to love ordering people about and pulling the high-and-mighty trick on them, the fact that life allowed him to be the office supervisor appeared to be making things good for him. Although, coming to think about it, he would be sharing in her own misfortune, whether he wanted to or not, soon.

She, on the other hand, appeared to be cursed. Yes, she had good friends, and yes, she was going to have children like she always wanted to. But she also appeared to be stuck in a man's body whilst her soul was that of a woman. Furthermore, she had no one to love her like a lover, only like a friend. The one that she wanted to love her more than anything else was the father of her children, but he didn't know, and probably wouldn't believe her. And finally, to top it all off, she was given the most arrogant and stuck up partner for work in the history of forever. Life, Grell decided, hated her. To emphasise her point, she cursed her situation whilst munching on another Jaffa Cake.

"Blimey, ol' man," emerging from her office finally, having taken entirely too long in Grell's opinion, the young Reaper stepped through the door and broke the redhead's chain of thought. Making a mental note to check her office for any pranks when she returned to it later, she turned to the brunette with an eyebrow raised and fury on her features. "You didn' hafta stab me foot tha' way."

"Are you incompetent?" Grell shrieked, causing many of the passing new recruits and even Eric, who was looking rather happy for someone who wasn't being talked to by his true love, to turn and look at her and the new recruit. "I am clearly a woman. Woman." She said slowly, pointing to her heels, hair and skirt. "Look. Come here. Look. This is a skirt. And these are high-heels. How many men do you know that were high-heels."

When the young man across from her, looking slightly taken aback, opened his mouth to talk, Grell cut him off again, venomously. "Don't answer that."

"Hey, look ol' timer," he said consolingly, hands raised in a parody of surrender. "I didn' mean to offend when I called ya a man ya know? I jus' though' you were eccentric or somethin'. I didn' realise tha' you were gender confused."

"Oh, for goodness sake," snapped Grell, eyes blazing and teeth clenched. Hands balled into fists at her sides, she had to seriously resist the temptation to strangle the boy across from her. "One, I am not gender confused. I am a woman in a man's body. Okay?" Pausing as if she were allowing him to answer but carrying on again before he could, Grell spoke slowly and patiently, as if to a baby. Well, at least she was getting the practise for later, she supposed. "Two, I am neither old timer, nor old man… or chubs, if you're thinking about calling me that. In fact, if you call me that again, I will not hesitate to Reap you."

Once again, before the boy could speak, he was cut off. Only this time by Eric, who had come over to see what all the commotion was about. "Ya know?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck and pretending to wince when Grell glared at him, though her eyes were slightly softer than when they lay on the young Reaper. "I wouldn' call 'er ol' timer, nor ol' man, nor chubs if I were you. She really does mean I' when she says she'll Reap ya. Cut that demon's arm tha' beat ya up to no good, didn' ya, Grell? 'E couldn' use it after she came a' him."

"Sorry, Mr Slingby, sir," the brunette said, false compliance on his face that neither Grell nor Eric looked like they believed. "I won' do it again. It's jus' tha' he was eatin' a hell of a lot of Jaffa Cakes, an' I'm not tryna' be mean but I really think that he shoul' cut down on 'em."

"She," Grell chimed impatiently, whilst Eric told the boy to keep his opinions to himself. Not all of them needed to be heard, after all.

"Wha's yer name, anyway?" Eric asked, clicking his fingers at the boy as if trying to recall something that had gone missing in his mind. "Wha' was it? Somethin' like Jasper or Joseph, wasn' it?"

"Joshua, sir. Joshua Carroll."

"Ah, there's a good laddie," Eric said, smiling slightly at Joshua before turning away and grimacing at Grell and rolling his eyes, before mouthing 'good luck' at her. Walking off whistling, he left Grell and Joshua alone, and Grell didn't like it one bit.

"You know what, Joshie?" Grell trilled, twirling a few strands of hair around her finger. Desperate for a fight, Grell decided to go to the one place that she knew she would get one without any work whatsoever, ditching the Dispatch building once again. "I'm not feeling up to all this work. I'm going to head out, just like an old timer like me should, okay, and take a lovely long rest back at home. Retire, even? Hmm. Yes, I like that idea. If Willy-darling comes along, just tell him that I've gone home. Overtime isn't really my thing, see?"

With that, Grell span on her heel and hurried out, ignoring the annoying Reaper chasing after her with an outraged cry, calling to her something about him having been given work for two that day, as she was supposed to be helping him, to which she replied that a younger, fitter Reaper like him should be able to do it just fine all by himself. Why on earth would he want the help of an old timer, before smiling, venomously, and wiggling her fingers at him in farewell. And with that she was gone, leaving the Dispatch building behind her and heading to the Mortal Realm, and from there, to the Phantomhive manor.

It was about half an hour later that Grell finally located the young earl and Sebastian, who appeared to be on some sort of lover's retreat in the furthest reaches of their garden, Ciel leaning against Sebastian's chest as the elder demon, for they were both demons now, apologised for the hundredth or so time, according to Ciel, for ignoring and hating the little earl for an entire six months.

Rolling her eyes, Grell summoned her chainsaw to her and swung it around a few times to remind herself of the weight and balance of her weapon, before jumping out of the tree she had been hiding in and giggling, smirking as Ciel and Sebastian's eyes widened to ridiculous widths, clearly having not noticed her. Clearly, they had been too caught up with each other to notice her, if that was the case, and Grell envied their kind of love. Smiling, she began talking to them.

"Hello, Sebas-chan," she drawled, pulling a flirtatious pose. "It's been too long."

"Why, Grell Sutcliff," Sebastian appeared a little surprised, still, but was smirking at the redhead when he spoke. "I'm afraid, for me, that it has been not long enough. Didn't you get the message last time I beat you up?"

"Oh, perfectly," Smiling, Grell stalked forwards a little, watching as Sebastian whispered for Ciel to get out of the way, and then the blue haired demon scrambled to his feet and went to hide in the trees, away from the clearing, where things were about to get messy. "I just came for a fight, today. I just cannot stand some of the people in my work, you see, and I feel as if it would be in my best interest not to murder by subordinates. You, on the other hand. You, I can harm without a second thought."

"Grell Sutcliff showing some planning," Sebastian mock gasped, drawing off his jacket and rolling his sleeves up. "Whatever has the world come to? William T. Spears confessing his love to me?"

"How dare you?" Screeching, Grell flew forwards, turning the motor of her blade on in the process and leaping forwards, only to be stopped by Sebastian holding the chainsaw away from him with both hands on the flat, silver sides of the blade. "William is mine."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry," Sebastian smiled maliciously, "I wouldn't want your stuck up Reaper. Though I wouldn't say that he would want you. I believe he called you the scum of the Reaper Realm directly to my face, once."

"Hey," Grell, worked up, bared her teeth at Sebastian and threw drew her blade back, running forwards and making as if to slash upwards towards the demon's head, but instead slashing downwards towards his legs. Only just jumping out of the way in time, Sebastian raised an eyebrow, leaping backwards to land at the edge of the ring of trees and smirking when Grell looked up in surprise at him. How had he known that that was what she was going to do?

Snarling, she threw herself forwards across the clearing and smirked as she chased the charming demon around the small meadow, him only able to jump backwards to keep out of the way of her churning blades. It was easy, she decided, when he wasn't trying, and she liked it that way, wanting to beat something, rather than be beaten herself. Before long, she had landed a blow to his shoulder, causing him to his and blood to splatter across some of the trees behind her and across his and her face. The pattern was rather fascinating, dripping down like red rain, and Grell had to admit that she loved blood more than many, many things. The only things that really beat it was William T. Spears, her infuriating and cold supervisor and the children she was carrying….

Suddenly, their existence sprang back into her mind, and she looked at Sebastian with wide eyes, realising what she had just done. She had just jeopardized her children by fighting the demon before her. Terror rushed through her as she sprang backwards, causing the raven to spin around quickly to assess the danger behind him, notice nothing and turn back to her, smirking and thinking that he had gained some kind of advantage over her. Quickly, he ran around the clearing while Grell was too busy to notice, berating herself about being such an awful mother as to put her needs before those of her children.

Before she could stop it, Sebastian had the chainsaw out of her hand and across the open area, smashing it into a tree and allowing it to fall to the floor. Knowing it was her best line of defence for both her and more importantly her children, Grell hurried forwards, desperate to reach it. However, before she could, Sebastian had her on the floor, her legs going out from underneath her and her skirt riding up. To protect her dignity, she pulled it down, losing valuable time that she could have been using to crawl across the thick grass and reach her only weapon. In the time that she lost, Sebastian had come closer to her again, and aimed his first punch straight to her face, causing blood to leek hot and thick out of her nose, a crunching noise springing into the otherwise peaceful air and pain to shoot through the redhead's face. Thanking every power that she knew for the small mercy of him not aiming for the children first, Grell struggled in an attempt to break from his grip, knowing that Sebastian knew that something was wrong.

"Oh, what's wrong with you, Mr Sutcliff?" he asked, dangling the redhead by his hair some more. "Usually you don't want me to touch your face, but now you couldn't care less? What don't you want me to hit this time? Legs? Chest? Arms? Stomach? I need to know where I ought to avoid at all costs, no?"

"Please," Grell said, sucking some of the blood on her lips into her mouth and tasting the tangy, irony flavour, before spitting it out onto Sebastian's clean white shirt. He tutted at this, complaining about Grell's destroying of his shirt that the young master had given him, but she ignored him, hands scrabbling at the back of her head in an attempt to get the demon to release her hair. It was pulling and stinging, and she couldn't stand the amount of pain it was causing her, her whole bodyweight being supported by a few strands of hair on the back of her neck. Finally, she could feel the skin and hair tearing, and felt herself drop to the floor before the demon, overbalancing in an effort to protect her stomach and smashing her face into the floor, which caused a stinging graze to appear on her left cheek and her forehead, and confirm the fear that her nose was broken, simply because it hurt enough to make her cry out when she landed on it. "Please, let me go. I don't want a fight. Honestly."

"Oh, but you said you did," Sebastian pointed out evilly, laughing at the ungracefulness of Grell's fall. "Now, would you care to tell me why you're acting so careful around your stomach? Have you some sort of stomach bug?"

Wincing and shaking her head, Grell pulled herself to her hands and feet again, before staggering to her feet and veering off to the side, edging around Sebastian as he watched her in amusement. Slowly, one eye on Sebastian as she dabbed at the graze on her face, checking just how much blood was coming from it, and hissing at the sting that her prodding it caused, Grell aimed for her chainsaw. Before she knew it she was flying to the other end of the clearing, thumping into a tree by her back, the breath knocked out of her as she rebounded, hitting the ground on her hands and knees once more and scrambling back.

Blinking to clear her head of the dizziness, Grell noticed Sebastian coming towards her, the motor on her blade running, and scrabbled back further, pushing herself up against the tree and putting weight on both of her feet, before realising that one of them couldn't support her and screaming out as she fell, curling in on herself so that her stomach was her most defended area. Knowing it was her fault that she was about to lose her children to a demon that she herself had put herself in front of, she closed her eyes and felt a few tears slip out. Begging was her last option, so she fell back on it, head still down.

"Please," she whispered, knowing that the demon could hear her, "Please don't hurt my stomach. It's very, very important that you don't. They'll die if you do."

"They?" Sebastian cocked his head to the side, before smirking and turning to Ciel. "Do you hear that my Lord? The Reaper actually thinks that it's pregnant. How amusing."

"No, I am," Grell replied, hands resting on her stomach. "I went to the hospital last night. I could be carrying up to five in here. You can't hurt them. Hurt me all you like, but not my little babies."

Sebastian paused, raising an eyebrow, before appearing to stare off into the distance. Finally he pulled out of his blank state, turning to the Reaper with eyebrows raised and a flabbergasted look upon his face, which he quickly covered up. "You're right. There are some extra souls in your stomach. I have been sensing them all the time, but I just presumed they were Mey Rin's. It appears that in the six months Ciel and I were gone, she formed a relationship with Bardroy, and she is just as pregnant as you are, right at this point in time. I suppose she must have gone out then."

Grell's head snapped up and her eyes were hopeful, still pleading with the demon. "So there are more than one? How many are there? Please. I have to know."

"Oh," Sebastian said, smirking down at Grell and aiming the chainsaw back at her. "There won't be any soon. I think that seems correct."

"No, please, please don't hurt my babies." Tears slipped down Grell's face and she scrambled to her feet, preparing to turn back and run, only to find that the trees, as she pushed her way through the outer limits, were too thick for her to penetrate. "I beg you. I love them. You can't hurt them!"

"Oh, but I think that would be the perfect lesson to teach you not to come back here. You were the one to endanger them yourself, after all."

"Simply because I've only known about them for a day, that is all." Grell relied, leaping upwards and into a tree, wanting to get her chainsaw back but knowing it would be impossible if she was going to protect her children. "I would never have come here if I had remembered. It's just that Joshie got me so infuriated that everything flew from my mind, by calling me a man. And an old and fat one at that."

"How fascinating," Sebastian drawled, before leaping up to the branch of the tree that she was on and kicking her down to the ground, her spinning around in her fall to land on her back and cursing herself for not jumping away sooner. She should have left, instead of explaining her mistake. "But we really must ensure that you do not come here again. So I'm really very sorry," he didn't sound sorry at all. "But the babies have to go."

With that, he jumped down, aiming the chainsaw straight for Grell's stomach whilst she tried to move away, closing her eyes and screaming for help when she knew that she wouldn't get away in time. Braced for the impact, Grell felt more tears slip out of her eyes and whispered a silent goodbye to her children, only to hear a clanging noise as of metal on metal. Wincing, Grell looked up, only to find a metal pole stretching out above her. Quickly, Grell's eyes darted to the side, meeting those of William's and mouthing a silent thank you. Only one question was left as he talked to Sebastian and Ciel, before the two demons left, throwing her chainsaw to William as they vanished into the trees. Just how much had William heard of their conversation? Grell didn't know, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. She wasn't sure she was ready, now that it came down to actually talking to William. Then again, maybe, for once, the universe would be on her side. Somehow, she doubted it, looking up as William came towards her once more, helping her to her feet rather more gently than she was expecting.

"When were you going to tell me of your pregnancy, exactly, Sutcliff?"

Damn it. He had heard her. Sighing, Grell looked up and prepared to speak.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, only a few OC characters and this particular storyline.

Difficult Love Chapter Six

"Well?" William asked, pushing his glasses up and staring at Grell when she didn't answer straight away. "Sutcliff, answer the question."

"Oh, I'm sorry William," Having snapped Grell out of her daze, William awaited her answer, "It's just that I… well, I only found out yesterday and I… well… I was going to tell you."

Nervously, Grell tapped her fingers together, blood still running in a shallow trickle from her nose, and William sighed slightly, reaching into his jacket pocket, pulling a handkerchief out and passing it to her, irritated that she had managed to get herself into such a difficult situation once again.

"Honestly." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and wishing that he could be sleeping in his nice warm bed, instead of dealing with his infuriating subordinate that made him feel odd feelings despite being the closest thing that he had to a friend. "I needed to know, Sutcliff, so that I could take you off of field work to protect your child."

"Children," Grell pointed out childishly, rubbing her hands over her still almost flat stomach and smiling a little, eyes glazing over as she looked almost through him, to something he couldn't see, causing him to cough impatiently to regain her attention. "Children, Willy-darling. Sebastian spoke in a plural, so I'm carrying more than one."

"Twins?" Curiously, William walked closer to Grell. He had heard of male pregnancies before in the Reaper Realm, and knew them to be mystical and very based around numbers and specifics, with a lot of possibility and facts, though what he knew contradicted itself a little, but he had never actually heard all the cold hard facts and knowing that he was talking to someone who could give them to him fascinated him a little. Intrigue drew him into a conversation with Grell, he supposed, whereas normally he would be running as fast as he could in the opposite direction, because of all her flirting and the odd feelings that accompanied her whenever she showed up.

"Maybe," Grell mumbled, looking down at herself then up at William, eyes connecting with his as if they were trying to get across some hidden meaning to him, but just one that he couldn't quite work out. Whatever it was, it appeared to be important, and William backed off a little in worry. What if she was saying what he thought that she was saying? What if this was what she has needed to talk about earlier? But then again, that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it? Grell was a known flirt and probably slept around a lot. For all William knew, her babies could be the _demon's_. He hoped not. If that were the case, he would have to put the poor things out of their misery, as far as he was concerned. "Maybe more. I could be carrying up to five of the things in here."

William raised an eyebrow as Grell gestured to her stomach, but opted not to say anything. If Grell wanted to believe that she would be blessed with that many children at one time then he wouldn't stop her, though he himself thought the idea ridiculous.

"Though I hope I don't," Grell added, sending William into a small state of confusion. If she wanted to believe that there were five, surely that meant that she wanted five children? Or maybe it was just the mystery she loved. That, William thought, was also a possibility. Straightening up, William glanced around and waited for Grell to finish before speaking himself. "Doctor Franc says that I could be though."

"Doctor Franc?" William asked, knowing that he was an expert in pregnancy in the Reaper Realm Hospital, though was also a very good doctor of stomach bugs and diseases. If she had been told by Doctor Franc, he was either starting to lose his marbles, or she was bang on when she said that she could be carrying five mini Grells. Somehow, William knew that it was the latter, even while wishing that it was the former. He didn't think that he could deal with more Grells in the world. Sighing, he turned and started creating a portal, Grell slipping up behind him as he did it. "Come Sutcliff. Let us discuss this in my office."

Grell nodded and followed after him as he stepped through the portal first, walking to his chair and sitting in it while he waited for her to sit in the one opposite him.

"I shall be taking you out of field work for as long as you remain working in Dispatch before you have your children, Sutcliff, and then I expect you back within a year after their birth." As Grell opened her mouth he raised an eyebrow, effectively shutting her up. "And before you complain that it isn't enough time off to get to know your children or whatever other drivel you will come out with next, I shall tell you that it is, in fact, plenty of time. In fact, the only reason you have a year, Sutcliff, is because I know it is you, and telling you to come back within any lesser time frame would be a waste of breath."

"But-" Grell started, hurrying on with her sentence before William could jump in again. "But surely you can give me longer? After all… I will be a single parent."

"Couldn't you talk to their father and ask him to help you. Beg, if that is necessary."

"I don't know," Grell mumbled, looking down and looking distinctly upset. "Their father isn't much one for talking. In fact, I tried, but he wouldn't let me. At all."

"Who is their father Sutcliff?"

Grell looked up, eyes wide and filled with tears, giving William the impression that she was about to turn to him and tell him that Michaelis had impregnated her, in which case, he would have to wonder why he stopped the demon from killing the things. If the demon was willing to exterminate its own abominations, then far be it from him to stop them.

"You really can't guess?" Grell asked, kneading at the material of her skirt and looking as though she was going to break it. "I have been dropping hints all day, you know, Willy-darling."

"Sutcliff," he started, still at a loss. Honestly, she could be so difficult sometimes. She had to know that he was bad at picking up on emotions and slight hints, much preferring to be told outright. However, a small feeling was drawing up in the pit of his stomach that this really did have something to do with him, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that. "If you are pregnant with some man's offspring, then it is fairly safe to assume that it is acceptable to desist in calling me 'Willy-darling'."

Throwing the last words out as if they offended him to even say, William pushed his glasses up his nose and watched as Grell struggled to find words to tell him what it was she wanted to say. Now he was really getting worried. Either, Grell had gone and slept with a demon, or it really did have something to do with him, and their night together that should never have been a few months beforehand. Both ways that he looked at it, it wasn't the most desirable of situations.

"Actually," Grell whispered, closing her eyes and looking down, dropping her happy and flirtatious act completely. "I think you're probably not going to like this, Willy-darling, but um… well… you know I said I had something to talk to you about earlier? Um… well… this is it…"

Fingers tapped together nervously, and she jittered her legs up and down, showing William just how nervous she was. Earlier, she had told him that she needed to talk to him about that night that they had spent together a few months back, and this was what she needed to talk about. William's heart stopped as understanding washed over him. He was the father to Grell's children. A strange sense of both awe and terror washed over him as he realised that one, he was going to be a father, and two, he had no idea how to be a father. Or how to get on well with the mother of his children, for that matter. Eyes wide, he looked up at Grell and felt himself pale a little more.

"You mean…" he pointed towards her stomach weakly, feeling tiredness dawn on him once more. "You mean that those… babies… they're mine?"

"That's exactly what I mean." Seemingly relaxing once she had the difficult bit out of the way, Grell waited with baited breath for William's reaction, which wasn't one to be in awe of. Instead of jumping up and hugging her, William instead slumped a little in his seat, before perking up a little and asking some more questions.

"Forgive me for asking this," Wary, William decided to test the redheaded Reaper, just to see how positive of his blood running through the veins that the little creatures wouldn't have yet, or not properly at least. "But are you absolutely certain that they are mine? You are known for sleeping around, are you not?"

"How dare you!" A shrill shriek rose from Grell and she threw herself forwards, slamming her fists on the table and getting up close to William's face, fury blazing in her eyes. "How dare you say that? I am a flirt, William, true, but I do not _sleep around_. I hadn't slept with anyone for a _year_ before you decided to bed me _in this office_ – which is very distasteful by the way. I thought you of all people would have better standards– and got me pregnant. And I haven't slept with anyone since then, either, even though you're really just a low average in the bedroom department, just like you were a low B-Grade average in all of your classes as a student, and I'd rather go to _Ronnie_ if I wanted a casual shag. And then he would be the father of my children, and _not you_!"

Blinking, slightly taken aback by Grell's outburst, though you wouldn't see it on his face, William stared at the Reaper without speaking before she finally stopped ranting, sitting back in her seat and panting slightly, with a few tears welling up in her eyes. Somehow, William was surprised that Grell had managed to go a year without having slept with anybody before him, and a warm feeling spread throughout him when he realised that he had been Grell's first in a long while, but he shoved it down, not quite understanding it. Instead, he just signed and rubbed at his temples, before pushing his glasses up and turning back to Grell.

"I apologise for making incorrect assumptions about you, Sutcliff," he said, after a few moments of silence, interrupted only by Grell's brief 'thank you' when he finished. "It is only that the idea of being a father is rather foreign to me, as I have not considered it before. I had to make sure that I really was the father before making a decision on whether to help you or leave you, as it were."

"And which have you chosen," Grell asked, looking up at him from lowered lashes, which must have been fakes or painted with mascara, as they did not match the colour of her rest of her hair. "Fight or flight?"

"I hardly think this situation is one that calls for the fight or flight response, Sutcliff," William said, before standing and walking around the desk, only to place his hand on Grell's shoulder and softening his gaze as he looked down on the pale Reaper before him, who was looking up in equal parts resignation and hope. "Though of course I will help you look after the children. They are mine, too, are they not?"

"Of course," Quickly, she agreed, nodding her head and allowing red strands to fall into her eyes, a little colour coming back into her cheeks before she appeared to realise something and drained of colour once more. "Though there are some things that you should know about my pregnancy that will be different from most that you've heard of before."

"The fact that you could be carrying up to five children now?"

"Yes," Grell nodded, before amending her statement to include other things. "But also along with the fact that I must have thirteen children now, throughout my life."

"Th-thirteen?" William felt himself pale, and wondered just how he could possibly deal with that. Along with this, he knew, he was unlikely to sleep with Grell again unless he decided he did love her truly, so would the children spring up magically? No matter how they occurred, he decided, he didn't want that many children. "Are you sure?"

"Perfectly," Dejectedly, Grell rubbed at her stomach, before hearing it growl slightly and rising from her chair, heading towards the door and clearly expecting William to follow her, which he did. "Doctor Franc said so. He also said that they didn't have to have the same father, if that's what you're worrying about. And no, they don't magically appear. It's just that circumstances will always find a way to make the thirteen children throughout your immortal lifespan as a Reaper. And if you think of it," Grell pointed out reasonably, William watching as she stalked into her office, still talking, only to stop short at the sight of the new recruit he had sent to work with her earlier munching away on Jaffa Cakes while sitting on her desk. "Thirteen children, when you live forever, is hardly that many."

"I'm still trying to acclimate myself with the idea of having even up to five," William pointed out reasonably, eyebrow twitching at the interruption in the form of Joshua, as Grell gritted her teeth and growled. "I do not appreciate the idea that there will eventually be thirteen of them."

"You'll love them when they're here," Grell growled, clearly trying to stop herself from leaping forwards and strangling the younger Reaper on her desk. "What, exactly, are you doing here, Joshie? And eating my Jaffa Cakes too?"

"Well," Joshua said around a mouthful of orange and cake, "I figured, since I 'ad to do the work for both of us, an' you still weren' back, Mr Sutcliff, that I would reward myself with a small trea'. Especially since you tried to decimate me toes earlier."

"Why, you little…!" she growled, flying forwards and snatching up the remaining few Jaffa Cakes and stuffing one into her mouth, before stalking back towards William and growling at him. "He's just gone and eaten all my Jaffa Cakes! Willy-darling! My babies love them! They _need_ them."

"While I admit that it was a rude and uncouth thing to do," William stated, pushing his glasses up and wishing that he was eating one of the tasty treats, having always had a taste for them, including inhaling their orangey scent and relaxing with them, a mug of coffee and a good book. "You will gain no sympathy from me by moaning about it. Honestly. Surely, if you liked them that much, you would have bought two boxes."

"But I _don't_ like them," Grell whined, clinging to William's arm and weighing him down. "The babies like them! They love them… though I think there's something missing… something like cinnamon maybe? I think cinnamon."

"Sutcliff, I have no care in the world for your culinary tastes," William pointed out, shaking Grell off of his arm and watching Joshua as the young Reaper's face contorted into an expression of confusion and he looked between the two Reapers in bewilderment.

"Have I missed something, sir?" He asked, looking down at the box in his hand and sliding the unopened pack out from behind him, having only eaten two in actuality. "And here is the second pack, by the way."

"Yes," Grell growled, reaching forwards and plucking the pack from his hands, before tearing it open with a satisfying ripping sound and savouring the chocolaty smell that rose from within. "My babies, in my stomach – which is why I'm so chubby, as you said earlier – love these Jaffa Cakes. That's why I was so annoyed when you ate them all. I'm craving them."

"Oh," Joshua looked down in a way that suggested that he may actually feel a little sorry for the way that he had behaved earlier in the day, before looking up and apologising, hoping off of the desk and bowing slightly to William before leaving the room, turning only once to ask Grell a question, to which she responded by throwing a pen at his head and huffing.

"Hell, no," She muttered through her treat, loving the citrus flavour on her tongue, even though she used to hate it. "He is _so_ not being the Godfather. Don't even think about it William."

"I wasn't even suggesting it, Sutcliff," Turning away from the door and the odd youth that had just left, William decided to get back down to business. "So, you must have thirteen children. Anything else I ought to know?"

"All of the children are fraternal," Nibbling on the edge of a cake, Grell offered one to William, who took it without saying a word and ate it, wishing that he had something with caffeine in it to keep him going. "So at least you can tell them apart. I wonder if they'll have my hair or your hair."

"They'll likely have a mixture," William pointed out, taking a bite and allowing the flavours to explode in his mouth whilst the texture dissolved, relaxing for the first time since he had been told he was going to be a father. "Some may be redheads, some may be black haired, some may be brunettes. You cannot know until after they are born, Sutcliff."

"I know," pouting, as if she wished he had told her the great secrets her womb was holding at that point in time, Grell's eyes met William's and there was mirth in her eyes as she said. "So you don't think any would have mixed hair, like Ronnie or Eric?"

"I hope not," William pointed out, thinking about their future. "If there was ever a more telling sign that they are going to be troublemakers it is going to be a mark that shows how much they stand out."

"Well, I, for one, would like to have outstanding children."

"Honestly." Groaning internally, William asked another question that had been weighing on his mind. "However, say one of the fertilised eggs were to split, would you have more than thirteen children then?"

"Of course," Grell stated simply, nipping at another Jaffa Cake and tapping on her desk, presuming an all-knowing and superior air. Something told William that she was enjoying knowing more than him. "And they would be identical, too. Though Doctor Franc says that you'll know if that happens, because it can be very dangerous in a Fertile Male, though he didn't explain it properly. He said something about our bodies containing thirteen eggs that we do not need, nor want, and the only way to get rid of them is to get pregnant, as we do not have periods, and our bodies go into a state of shock if they suddenly gain an extra infant compared to the amount of fertilised eggs, and basically, it's a recipe for disaster. The carrier can die from it, leaving their children and husband to mourn for her. It's sad."

"Well," William said, paling once more. If that were to happen to Grell after she was pregnant for the first time, leaving him with five children, only to die on him, leaving him with two newborns, who could be sickly, he wasn't sure he could cope. "Let us hope, for both our sakes, that that does not happen to you then, Sutcliff."

"Agreed," Yawning, Grell settled further back into her chair and stared at him, before smiling a little. "I'm so glad you decided to help me. There are so many out there who would just run, and this would be scary, all alone, William-darling. Though I wish that the children could grow up knowing…"

"What?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

Frowning, William thought of Grell's biggest wish and sighed, before standing and ending up before her. "You want the children to know what it is like to have two parents who love each other?" she nodded. "I cannot promise you anything, Sutcliff, but I can tell you that I will try to get to know you and I'm sure I will eventually learn to care for you. It may not be much, but it is the best I can do."

Grell nodded, smiling slightly, a little hope blazing in her eyes as she glanced behind him to the clock on the wall. Realising that it was nearing midnight, and that the two had been talking for ages, she stood up and pecked William on the cheek, making his stomach feel light, though he had literally no idea why. Bidding him goodnight and walking out of her door, pulling her hoody tighter around herself, Grell smiled once more at him before walking out of the room.

Deciding that Grell had had the right idea, William headed back to his office to collect his coat, before slipping out of the building after her, relishing the feeling of the bracing, cool night breeze through his hair, not caring that it was ruffling it slightly. He felt as if his hair should be ruffled, the way his emotions were twisting and turning in any way they pleased. Tiredly, he let himself into his house and up the stairs, changing into his soft cotton pyjamas quickly and brushing his teeth, knowing that the Jaffa Cake would have to suffice for sustenance for that night, considering the fact that he could barely keep his eyes from drifting closed when he looked in the mirror. After finishing his bedtime routine, he fell into his bed, blinking tiredly and feeling his eyes fall closed, the crisp linens underneath him cool against his cheek.

Providing the only bright spot, William felt himself falling into his emotions, wondering just how he was going to survive being a father. He was going to be a father, and he wasn't too sure how he felt about that. He was also going to try to get to know Grell, and care for her, and he was even more dubious about that, somehow. Wondering briefly whether it was because he knew he could easily fall for her but was too scared, or because he knew that it would be a hard time falling for her and if he didn't then she could scare him, William finally discarded the thoughts, deciding to go back to them in the morning, because he was too tired for them then. His day had been a long one, and he needed a break. So silently and quickly, he left the waking world behind and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: I'm sorry this is such a long chapter, over 5,666 words including the Author's Note and Disclaimer. I'm sorry that Grell is out of character for the second half of the chapter, but it's a plot device, trust me. She'll be back to her normal, bubby self soon. I promise.

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler. I do, however, own the plotline of this story, along with Jorge, Frieda, Bianca and Joshua.

Difficult Love Chapter Seven

Grell sighed as she sat at her desk, rearranging the silky material of her long red skirt and wishing that she hadn't told William that she was pregnant. The minute she had got in that morning, she had been greeted by him waiting in her office, only to tell her that she would no longer be going on Reaps with the other Dispatch agents, instead doing all the paperwork that didn't require information from the Reapings themselves.

Deciding to occupy herself with something slightly less boring, she thanked her lucky stars that someone had left a new pot of elastic bands on her desk, and pulled her gloves off, before rolling up her white shirt sleeves a little, as if about to start some hard work. Instead, she split her hair into many different sections and braided each one, before pulling it all up into a high-ponytail and smiling at her new hairstyle. She knew that she would never keep it, but she had to admit that the hundreds of braids on her head looked very smart the way they were pulled back as she examined them in her pocket mirror. However, she noted, glancing at the clock, it had only passed the better part of an hour, leaving her with eight more hours of work to be done. Growling in frustration, she turned back towards the crisp white sheets on the desk and glared at them, as if waiting for her pen to get up and fill them in without her help.

Instead, it sat there, mocking her as she growled furiously at it. If it carried on like this, she realised, she would need to leave the office to go in search of some Jaffa Cakes, which William had promised her he had stocked when she arrived that morning, seeing as she appeared to be craving them. But he said that she could only have them if she did all her work in time, and that simply wouldn't do, she realised, feeling her stomach rumble. Quickly, she rose, thinking that she would search William out and bribe, coerce and threaten him into giving her some food, any food, if that was what it took. Death, she was _hungry_.

Heels tapping, Grell made her way through the halls, wondering where everyone was. Obviously they were still full, Jorge standing somewhere down the hall as if waiting for his junior to catch up with him. Clearly, they were going on a Reap, and growl scowled at him as he waved at her, dark hair shining under the bright lights of the corridor. Relief passed across his features, and Grell thought for a second that he had been worried about her, but then a small figure jostled her and ran over to Jorge, and it turned out that he had really just seen Zachary or Zachariah, or whatever the small figure was called. Cursing silently, she wondered if William would kill her for yelling at the young Reaper for jostling a clearly pregnant women, especially as she wouldn't pass as clearly pregnant for a while.

Slowly, Grell carried on, still trying to waste time, running into Joshua, who smiled and winked at her, before asking about the pregnancy and Jaffa Cakes as if they were friends. She herself wouldn't have called them that. They were more reluctant acquaintances then anything. Instead of bothering to reply civilly, Grell just informed him curtly that she was on the search for Jaffa Cakes, him laughing and telling her that he had seen 'boss' eating one earlier. Her eyes widened at that. Her love, the father of her children, was _eating_ their precious snack? Didn't he realise that he could cause an apocalypse or something? That would not do. Frowning slightly, she flounced past Joshua, red skirt swishing around her ankles as she went, not caring that it was completely against dress-code.

On her way to her love's office, through the bland corridors, Grell also passed a new recruit who appeared to be printing something, the warm smell of paper and ink hitting her and making her smile a little at its familiarity. It was good, she decided, to have some familiarity when everything else you knew had gone flying out the window. Which once again reminded her of the lack of any truly familiar faces, like Eric, Ronald or Alan. Where were they? Jealousy hit her when she remembered that they would all be out having fun on their Reapings, while she was sitting behind a desk doing paperwork. Well, she was supposed to be, anyway.

Finally, having passed little else on her way there, Grell reached William's door and smiled down at Frieda, whose appearance was on top form, in her opinion, that day. Smiling down at Frieda and taking the time to study her, which Frieda allowed for once, baring it stoically despite her blush, Grell took a seat on the table.

"Not bad," she smiled, showing off her gleaming teeth. "You're looking sexy today, Riri."

"You're only saying that because I'm wearing red," Frieda pointed out, smoothing down her red blazer and stretching her white heels with the black spots and the red toes out from under her desk, showing them off to Grell. "You don't care for the rest of my appearance."

"Oh, darling," Grell smirked, catching at the other woman's wrist and realising that she had forgotten to draw her gloves back on when she had left the office. Under her hand was a gold bracelet with black stones in it, cold against her skin, and she shivered slightly, wondering how it was possible for something so small to suck so much warmth from a person. Then again, Frieda liked it, so clearly it wasn't all that bad. Though she did wonder how the heat of Frieda's skin hadn't warmed the metal and stones by then, the amount of time that she would have had to have been wearing it. "I think your earrings, shirt and scarf look fabulous too. Not to mention the hair and skirt. What have you done?"

Frieda shook her head, knowing that Grell was just being her usual, overly dramatic self. There was nothing special about her plain black pencil skirt of white shirt, save for the fact that it lacked sleeves, though that wasn't actually visible under the blazer. The earrings were simple studs that matched her bracelet, only visible because all of her long, silver stands were pulled up into a high ponytail, matching Grell's own hairstyle, save for the fact that there were no braids. The scarf was a simple black and white piece, with a houndstooth pattern, draped loosely around her neck, and Grell wondered whether Frieda was going for a new look. It was the fifth time she had seen the woman wearing red, whereas previously she had never worn the colour, claiming it was too 'Grell'.

"I'm doing nothing special, as you well know," Frieda smiled, before switching back to her work personality to ask why she was there in the first place.

"Oh, you know," Waving a hand, Grell hopped off the desk, only to lean over it and closer to Frieda. "This and that. Food, mostly. Why are you wearing red?"

"I- I like the colour," the hesitation in her voice drew Grell to the fact that she was lying. "Besides, you're not the only one that can wear red. And there's a cafeteria downstairs. Mr Spears isn't normally in the habit of stocking food."

"But you know he is now," Grell trilled, grabbing her flustered friend's hand as she started lining up things with a ruler, just to seem even more meticulous, Grell presumed. Frieda had always liked to be within William's good graces. "Because of these little darlings," Grell patted her stomach lovingly. "Now, tell me the truth sweetie. I know when you're lying. You always start rearranging things."

"I do not," Frieda protested, still checking her pencils against each other to see if they were in line. Finding that they weren't, she pushed her ruler towards them and lined them up along the edge of that. "You're imagining things."

"With rulers," Grell smiled, grabbing Frieda's arm and halting her progress. "I'm not. You can tell me _anything_ , darling. You know that. We're the _best_ of friends, are we not?"

"We're not, don't lie." Frieda chuckled lightly, pulling her wrist back slightly. "Your best friend is An. Everyone knows that. I bet even those little ones in there, that don't even have fully developed brains yet, know that."

"Oh, silly," Flipping her hand distractedly, Grell shuffled closer subconsciously, smoothing her skirt over her lap and leaning in. "So come on then, tell me."

Frieda went red, fiddling with her lapels now that Grell had prevented her from touching her desk, and avoiding Grell's gaze as she turned redder by the second. Normally, Grell would have been pleased to see her favourite colour, but with the shade Frieda was turning, she wasn't entirely sure it was helpful. Looking away, Grell swung her legs and listened to the gentle swish of her skirts as they caught in the breeze she was creating.

"It was An's idea," Frieda finally blurted, looking for all the world like she could slap her hands over her own mouth, but was resisting purely on the grounds of refusal to take the status of cliché. "I just went along with it."

"What was?"

"That I should start dressing in red every now again. She thought that when William saw it he would be subconsciously reminded of you and start thinking about you more, and realise that he was in love with you or something of the sort. It had nothing to do with me. I swear it."

"Aww," Grell shrieked, probably alerting William, on the other side of the thick doors, that she was there. It would only be a matter of time, now, before he came storming out of his office to see what the disturbance was. "An's so sweet! And I'm guessing you went along with it because-"

"Because I love An?" Frieda asked, looking up at Grell with a small, thoughtful smile. "Yes. Though I wish she would hurry up and notice it. It's starting to bother me that she doesn't, and keeps chasing after all those other women in General Affairs instead."

"Oh, darling," Grell said, turning slightly when she heard the door behind her click. Knowing William was there, she turned her back to him once again and leaned over the desk, arms resting on it and showing off her sexy figure to her boss, hopefully. "I'll talk to her about it if you want. Either way, she's bound to get it eventually. She's a clever one, that An of yours."

"To be honest, Miss Sutcliff," Frieda said, in a bored and professional manner, keeping up appearances for William's sake. "I think An is more yours than mine at the moment."

"You keep telling yourself that honey," Grell giggled, before leaning forwards and kissing Frieda on the cheek to surprise her out of her melancholy mood, before turning around to face her darling William. "But now, my prince awaits."

"I'm not your prince," was the first thing that William said to her after sitting down at his desk, her following into the room after him. "And that skirt is not part of the uniform code."

"Oh, but William," whining and leaning forwards on the desk, Grell made puppy-dog-eyes at William and pouted slightly, fingers clasping together. "This skirt is comfortable, and my trousers are all too tight now. And not only that, honey, but this skirt is well over regulation length, so shouldn't I be allowed to keep it."

"Well," William allowed, resting his fingers together on the desk as he regarded her through his glasses. "I suppose, for the comfort of a pregnant worker, we shall allow this exception of the rule."

"Oh, thank you Willy-darling," Grell trilled, smiling at him and throwing herself across the desk enough to throw her arms around his neck, before pecking him on the cheek and sitting back in her seat, leaving a stunned William behind, wondering what had just happened.

Before long, he blinked out of his confusion and reached into his pocket, drawing out a comb and neatening his ruffled hair with it, before inquiring as to what Grell wanted at his office, especially seeing as she appeared to have no work on her, no inquiries to make and to have spent the better part of her morning braiding her hair. She laughed at that, knowing that William wouldn't be pleased and loving the thrill it gave her, before asking if she could have a Jaffa Cake, to which the reply was no.

"But William," Grell whined, clasping her hands together, pouting and fluttering her eyelashes at him, before reaching into a pocket hidden within the folds of her skirt and drawing out a small shaker. "But I even brought cinnamon to sprinkle them with this time."

"I don't care what you have done, Sutcliff," William informed her, annoying her at the use of her last name. However, she decided to let it slide just that once, seeing as how he had, in fact, agreed to try to care for her the night before. "You shall not have any treats until after you have done your work."

"You're treating me like a dog, you despicable man," Grell complained, before perking up a little. "But I understand. No Jaffa Cakes. How about some food then? I forgot to pack a lunch today."

"You're incorrigible," William said, whilst reaching into his desk and pulling out a few fruits and a small pot of pasta and passing it to her. "Although, I have heard that pregnant women like to eat a lot, so I did bring extra in, just in case."

Touched that William would do that for her, Grell reached across and took the food items for him, wondering if she was going to cry. She wanted to, for not having realised that William would actually care for her, but before she could thank him, he turned back into his cold, hard persona of her boss and kicked her out of the office, using 'Sutcliff' instead of 'Grell' again, and forcing her back to her work. Grouchily, she wondered why she was in love with such a cold-hearted man.

It had been hours since Grell had made her visit to William, and she had already munched her way through an apple, an orange (which reminded her of her favourite treat, so she sprinkled some cinnamon on it and was amazed at the results) and the pot of pasta, and she was down to a few carrot sticks and a pear when a knock came at her door.

Glancing up, Grell saw three shapes in it, two smaller shapes and a taller one, and Grell knew immediately that it was Alan, Eric and Ronald, though she could not figure out why they were paying a visit to her office. Standing up, Grell crossed over to the door and ushered them inside, knowing that her face was displaying her confusion for all to see.

By the time that she got back to her desk, all three of them had taken the liberty to seat themselves, Alan looking very prim and proper, though sitting next to a smiling Eric, who was lounging on the sofa, his leg brushing the brunette's. Alan made no move to push him away, shifting slightly closer, in fact, which confused Grell, as the last time she had seen the two, they hadn't been speaking. Then again, she reasoned, she had been out of the building for two months, and many things happened in the space of two months. Ronald, looking completely unconcerned with the situation, was sprawled across the arm of the chair. Irritation rose in Grell. If she had to replace her sofa because the arm snapped or sank, she knew exactly who she would be killing.

"Can I help you three with anything?" Still eyeing Eric and Alan, Grell leaned her elbows on her desk, fiddling with a braid as it fell over her shoulder.

"Actually, senpai," Ronald piped up, leaning forwards with his lawnmower beside him. "We heard you were taken off of collections and we came to ask why, 'cause now all our schedules have been messed up. These two love birds here only get to work with each other half as much now, 'cause I have to work with them, too."

"'Love birds'?" Grell asked, astonished. Had she really missed so much time at work that Alan could go from hating Eric for curing him with one thousand innocent souls to Alan and Eric being in a relationship? Turning to them, she implored them for more information with her eyes and the crease between her brows that showed her confusion. "I thought you hated each other?"

"No," Alan said patiently, blushing a little when he was referred to as a 'love bird'. "I was just furious that Eric would do such a thing as to kill one thousand innocent people for me. Then he told me that no sin was too great for him to commit because he loved me, and that he would rather see me alive and hating him than dead, and I decided to forgive him. Does that satisfy you, Miss Sutcliff?"

"How many times, Alan?" Grell smiled, flipping her hair behind her shoulder and pulling out an emery board with which to shape her already uniform nails. "How many times must I ask you to call me Grell?"

Alan replied that it was a simple 'it's unprofessional', before leaning back slightly, reinventing the meaning of the word red after Eric leaned in and kissed his cheek, pulling him flat against his chest. He protested weakly, but didn't seem too against the idea of leaning against the larger man. Ronald sighed a little, before asking his question again and capturing Grell's attention, poking a little fun at the fact that her desk seemed to be littered with both food and the remains of food, such as an apple core and an empty pot.

"Hey," Grell protested lightly, not minding the jibes so much as she had with Joshua, mostly because they were from Ronald and she liked to think of him as a friend, rather than as an annoying acquaintance. Though he was still annoying. "I'm eating for… well… I don't know how many exactly," Grell scratched her head slightly, looking embarrassed. "But more than two, that's for certain."

"What?" Ronald asked, at the same time as Eric made a confused noise and Alan asked "I'm sorry? I don't understand."

"Well," Grell murmured slowly, smiling and patting her stomach some more, before reaching for a carrot stick and nibbling on it contently. "I'm a fertile male Reaper. Surely you've heard of them."

Ronald stared at her in shock for a second, making Grell feel as if he didn't believe her, before realising what had bothered him. But only because the dual-haired Reaper had spelt it out for her a few seconds later, telling her that he didn't think that he had ever heard her refer to herself as a man willingly before. Grell had flown into a bit of a tizzy after that, and it had taken a fair few minutes to calm her down, Ronald hiding behind the sofa and being chased around the room alternately before Alan had managed to talk some sense into her, Eric just sitting back and watching the show with a chuckle, which had led to a light slap over the head from Alan. Having finished his wounded routine, Eric settled back in the chair with Alan, Ronald rubbing his head from where it had crashed into the wall earlier and perching on the arm, while Grell gave him the evil eyes and scowled at him from across her desk.

"Sorry, Miss Sutcliff," Alan said, causing Grell to sigh and turn to him, informing him to call her Grell once more. "But what do you mean you're fertile?"

"Well," Grell drawled, as if speaking to a particularly slow five year old. "I mean, I was fertile, but I didn't know it, and then I got pregnant. Doctor Franc says there could be five of the little darlings in here." She gestured to her stomach, smiling softly and patting it, resisting the temptation to coo at the babies she was carrying whilst in the presence of other beings. "But now I'm eating for who knows how many, hence the great amount of food."

"Pregnant?" Eric asked, looking a little worried at the prospect of more murderous, blood-loving psychos running around the Realm. "With actual wee bairns?"

"No, Eric," Grell retorted, finishing her original carrot stick and starting on another. Deciding that it didn't taste quite right, she sprinkled some cinnamon on it, causing the other Reaper's to pull a face, before taking a bite and smiling at her concoction. "With kittens. Of course with babies."

"Oh," Confused, he pulled Alan closer to him, leaning his chin on the head of his love. "Do yer know yet if they'll be lasses or laddies?"

"How should I?" Grell asked, looking confused. "We have no better pregnancy technology than the humans do, only enough so to inform me that I'm pregnant before it becomes obvious because I gain excessive amounts of weight in the stomach vicinity. Though I get the feeling that it's going to be girls."

"All of them?" Ronald asked, wide eyed. "Surely you would expect at least one boy. You can't want an all-female family, can you?"

"Of course not," Reasonably, she pointed out that their father would be a man, for a start, before going on to deliver them more details. "I meant that this batch would all be girls. Apparently I can carry up to five at a time, and I _have_ to have thirteen throughout my life."

After that she was forced to explain the rules of male pregnancy to the rest of the room, popping the lid off of the cinnamon pot and dipping her carrot in this time, instead of spilling any of the warm brown powder. Smiling, she closed her eyes, enjoying the Christmassy scent of the cinnamon, and not noticing how pale both Alan and Eric had gone, though Alan was looking more interested than worried, and Eric was looking both astonished, worried and interested in equal parts. Only after Eric started choking slightly did she stop. "But don't worry," she said, lapping the cinnamon off of the carrot before biting the crunchy orange vegetable. "You only _have_ to have thirteen after you become pregnant with one. If you never become pregnant, then you never have to have all of the – Eric, are you alright?"

"Perfectly," he managed, before Alan took over from him. "It's just that, well, the cure for the Thorns often leaves a male Reaper as a fertile Reaper, as they have so many innocent souls of women and children that it just seems to take effect on the body. Which means that I may be fertile. But there isn't any proof yet," Alan reminded Eric quickly, smiling slightly. "So you don't have to choke like that. I may not even be fertile."

"But it's such a blessing if you are," Grell pointed out, while Eric looked like he wanted to be sick.

Noticing this, Ronald changed the subject. "Who is the father, anyway?"

Grell paused in her tracks, deciding that it would be best not to say. William probably didn't want it known that he was the father of her children, or a father at all for that matter, and he certainly wouldn't want all the congratulations of being in a relationship with her or being the father of her children. Feeling anger burn deep inside, and bitterness twist deeper, Grell scowled internally, whilst wiggling her fingers at the three and eating another carrot, feeling satisfied at the crunch that it created as it died between her teeth. The other Shinigami would just have to guess if they wanted to know, and go by her reaction.

"It isn't that demon, is it?" Ronald continued, not seeing Grell's flinch as she thought of the way Sebastian had almost killed her children to teach her a lesson the day before. Of course, he hadn't really been going to kill them, just proving a point and hoping to keep Grell away, but Grell wasn't to know that, was she? "Simon or Solomon or something of the sort, right?"

"Sebastian Michaelis?" Eric asked, chuckling and shaking his head. "Aye, they migh' be 'is. Grell is obsessed enough for tha'."

"Don't be ridiculous," Alan chided, turning to study Grell up and down, trying to read her body language. "Miss Sutcliff wouldn't do something like that, would you?"

"No, don't worry," Grell assured them, smiling a little and leaning back, thinking of how ridiculous the children would have looked, with demon horns, wings or tails if they were Sebastian's. "They're a Reaper's."

The others released their breaths in a joint sigh, before leaning back and thinking it through. Who did Grell like that she had a chance with? And who liked Grell? And who did Grell spend time with a lot? Light hit in all of their eyes, but it seemed like they all had different ideas.

"Is I' tha' guy yer always hanging around with?" Eric asked, tapping his chin with a finger and looking up. "'Cause I'm pretty sure 'e has the hots fer yer."

"Jorge?" Grell asked, before going on to describe her dark skinned friend, from the tips of his wild black hair to the bottom of his messily scuffed shoes. Thinking of him fancying her, Grell wrinkled her nose. Nothing would ever happen between them, even if he did like her, because she didn't fancy him and also, they were friends. Just friends. And she said as much, dashing Eric's thoughts.

"Ah, tha's too bad," Eric said, smiling a little at her. "I would 'ave liked to 'ave seen some little beasties runnin' around with tha' chocolate skin o' his and tha' fiery hair o' yers."

"Did you just call my babies beasts?" Grell asked, mocking furiousness. "I'd like to see your children when they come Eric Slingby."

"When?" He asked, and Grell amended her statement to 'if'.

Alan coughed nervously, looking as though he was hiding something, but after that all attention shifted to Ronald, who had fallen off the back of the sofa, which he had been perching on. Rubbing his head and nursing his injured ego, he stood and decided to sit on the bit of the sofa that a normal person sits on, before turning to Grell and throwing out his suggestion.

"What about that creepy old guy?" He asked, flattening his hair down as best he could so that it was hanging half in his eyes, before frowning and brushing it away again. Clearly, he was trying to demonstrate the Undertaker. "You know. With all that hair?"

"Undertaker?" Grell laughed suddenly, thinking that while Undertaker _was_ a good looking man underneath all that hair of his, he had nothing on her William. Bitterness rose again when she remembered that while she was carrying his children, William was still not hers. Hating the cards that life had dealt her, she cursed it silently, before turning back to Ronald. "No, he isn't the father either. Can you imagine what the children would be like? They'd have pink hair. _Pink_."

Chuckling slightly, the only person left to guess was Alan, who suggested the tall ginger man that kept flirting with her from the glasses department, which left Grell screwing up her face and shaking her head, making a face that clearly suggested that the man was undesirable. Besides, Grell hadn't even realised he was flirting with her until Alan had pointed it out one day, and even then she hadn't really understood most of what he was trying to say. It wasn't that he was a bad guy, she thought, and she commended him for plucking up the courage to try to flirt with her in the first place, but he was clearly too nervous to get more out than a few words interspersed with 'um' and 'er' here and there. She shook her head.

After that, the three of them spent a good ten minutes throwing out names, none of them even considering that it might be William that had impregnated her. Sighing, she realised just how hopeless her love for William was viewed as, and cursed his name again, wishing that he loved her, or at least cared a little.

"William," She called eventually, causing all the other Reapers to spin round in their seats and face the door, fearing that their cold boss had walked into the room. When they didn't see him they thought that she was trying to get their attention and turned around, looking up at her expectantly. "William is the father." Just as the others were about to speak she held a hand up, stopping them. "Trust me. It's the truth."

"Oh," Alan blinked, before coming to his senses first. "Well then, Miss Sutcliff. Congratulations on your relationship."

"Aye," Eric agreed, while Ronald chimed in with a "Yeah."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Grell sighed, tiredness overwhelming her. "William doesn't actually care about me. It was just a 'mistake', he keeps saying. He's just agreeing to look after me and the babies, probably because he doesn't want to look like the lowest of the low."

Picking up her pen and setting to work on her final piece of paperwork, Grell considered eating some more, but realised that she had lost her appetite, instead distracting herself from the heartbreak by working. Across from her Eric, Alan and Ronald blinked, before starting to apologise, which Grell shook off, snapping at them.

"It's fine," she growled, signing her last signature and pushing the paperwork to the side, before folding her arms on the desk and resting her chin on them. "William, the man that I love, would rather date a demon than me." She murmured, before carrying on, ignoring the appalled looks that were being given to her by her friends. "I _know_ that. I have come to terms with that. Frankly, I'm just glad he even decided to help me. And I love him so much, so _impossibly_ much, and he couldn't care less about me. I understand. But please, please… just… don't tell me you're sorry, because how could you know, how could you _possibly_ know, how I feel about that?"

Eric opened his mouth to speak, but Grell stopped him before he could. "And I know that Alan was angry with you, Eric, but let's face it. You had the joy of him not going to die anymore to keep you going. And at least when he was angry at you he showed you emotion. William doesn't even do that. Hell, he's using Jaffa Cakes, which I crave _all the time_ , as a reward system for me to do my work. Basically, he is using _my_ pregnancy in _his_ favour. Now tell me. _Can_ you understand? Do you?"

Silently, the rest of the Reapers in the room shook their heads, before standing up and preparing to leave. One by one they reached over to Grell, Alan pressing at her hand and congratulating her on her soon-to-be-motherhood, Eric ruffling her hair and doing the same, and Ronald patting her on the back and asking if he could be a godfather. Grell, laughing lightly, trying to lighten the mood, just shook her head and told the dual-haired reaper that she would think about it, making him leave with a spring in his step. She had no doubt that the news of her pregnancy would be all over the building by the time she left, Ronald probably using it to help him talk to girls, telling them that he was a potential godfather of up to five children. It would be gold dust to him. Invaluable and rare.

"Oh, and guys," Grell called, just as they reached the room. They turned their head to face her again. "Don't tell William that I said any of that. In fact, just act normally, okay?"

They all nodded, before Eric swung the door open, only to reveal a peeved looking William holding a box of Jaffa Cakes. Slowly, the filed past him, Grell turning away from him at the last minute, desperate to hide the pain in her eyes. He stood before her, looking ticked off, and Grell wondered just how much of her conversation he had heard. She hoped that he hadn't heard any, but knew that it would be too much to hope for.

"I heard what you said Grell," William's tone was flat, and left no room for arguments. "We must talk."

Grell's shoulders slumped and she tried to hold the sobs that she knew were rising in her inside, but she knew they would escape soon, and then, William would be privy to the full Grell breakdown, which she was pretty sure that William had never seen before. She was also pretty sure that she didn't want him to ever see it, knowing it was her worst side save for murdering psycho, but knew it was too late to stop it then.

William came closer and placed the Jaffa Cakes none to gently upon the table, before straightening up and glaring daggers at Grell's back.

"What in heaven or earth could possibly have possessed you to tell them that I was the father of your children, Sutcliff?"

Grell felt a tear fall down her face.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, just this particular plotline.

Difficult Love Chapter Eight

Frowning, William awaited Grell's answer in silence, but she never opened her mouth. What he didn't know, of course, was that if she opened her mouth, she would have broken down completely. Having waited an entire minute with no answer, William decided to continue his line of inquiry, interrogating Grell and working her up further without even realising it.

"Honestly, Sutcliff," William murmured, trying to keep his voice as low as possible so as not to attract any attention, though he had no doubt that Ronald, Alan and Eric would be listening outside the door to see what they would say to each other. They were just the sort of people to do that, even Alan, though he would seem like he didn't want to. Ronald had probably even persuaded Jorge, Bianca and Frieda into listening. "I can understand telling them that you were pregnant, as they were going to find out eventually, but they did not need to know that I was the father."

"Only because you don't want to be," Grell mumbled, though William couldn't hear her through her restricted voice and turned back.

"What was that, Sutcliff?" Coming closer, slightly, William attempted to work through what Grell had said, only to be surprised when she turned round to face him, eyes red from withholding tears and cheeks blazing up, clearly in anger.

" _Stop doing that_." She screeched, not caring about attracting attention. Clearly, William could see, she was too caught up in getting her own way again, though to see her look so down did make him feel guilty, though he would never admit it. "Stop calling me Sutcliff like you don't know my name, William. We've known each other for over ninety years for heaven's sake."

He blinked, not expecting her to yell at him, but before he could rise against her for himself, she looked away, hear hiding her face as best it could, being tied in braids and pulled up and away from her face. Able to see the emotions playing over her face clearly, William sucked in a breath, not having meant to hurt Grell as badly as he had at all.

"I _understand_ , William," she continued, oblivious to William's thoughts and ploughing on, not realising that she was causing unfamiliar emotions to well up inside her cold and stoic boss. "Like I said, earlier, when you were eavesdropping. I _understand_ that you don't love me, and never will, but please, _please_ try to act like it, if only for the sake of the children."

"Sutcliff-" William tried to interrupt, but was cut off by the redhead again, glaring at him and scolding him for using her surname, though it seemed that her heart wasn't in it. Scowling, William sighed at the fact that Grell wasn't allowing him to dispute what she was saying. He didn't hate her, and he knew for a fact that he could learn to love her, if he let himself. In fact, he was aware, it was only the fact that he didn't want to learn to love her that stopped him.

The idea of being in love scared him. It would be hard, very hard, for him to open up to anyone, he knew. Love, he had learned from all the heartbreaks and losses that he had heard of, was very much like a one sided war. It was like giving yourself an executioner, but hoping that he would stay the blade, and not impale you upon it. No matter how much you cared for someone, no matter how much you cared for them back, it was always like handing your love a scythe and hoping that they wouldn't kill you with it when you were their imprisoner. Eventually, they would get bored of being with you always, and would use any means necessary to alleviate that boredom or remove themselves from the situation, leaving you alone, on the floor, fallen down and alone, with nothing to pull you back up but those few friends that you still had, those that hadn't been driven off by the fact that you spent all your time with that one person who you had loved, but had decided to run and destroy you.

Knowing that he had no friends that would help him up again afterwards, and knowing Grell to be the notorious flirt that she was, William didn't think much of his chances when Grell got bored. He would be alone, so alone, with a few children who wouldn't understand and a mother that was going off and bedding demons and other Reapers and moving on, while he wouldn't be able to. He knew, he didn't know how, but he _knew_ that he was the sort of person that would have one love, and that would be it for him for life. If he fell for Grell, no one would replace her in his heart, and he would never fix himself, always waiting for her to come back around, and he just _couldn't do that_. So he had decided to save himself from the start and not dabble in issues of the heart, but now he wasn't so sure. Grell seemed so adamant, _so adamant_ , that she loved him that he was starting to get confused. Shaking his head to clear it, William realised that Grell was talking.

"And I _love_ you, William," Grell continued, clearly having been speaking for a while. "But you don't even seem to care. You get me _pregnant_ , for heaven's sake, then you barely even admit to it. I'm starting to wonder if you even really want to help me with these children. And- William, are you even _listening_ to me?"

"Not particularly," William replied, holding up his hands to stop Grell when she appeared to be about to fly off the hook. "I was thinking. I apologise."

"You come in here to yell at me and then you get distracted? By what, William? Is the idea of being with me for longer than three minutes so repulsive to you that you get away from me in mind even if you can't in body?"

"No, Sutcli- Grell," William amended after seeing Grell's face. "I was just thinking about the idea of love."

"' _The idea of love'_?" Grell sounded incredulous, and William didn't blame her. What he had said even sounded ridiculous to his ears. "Death, William. Love isn't just an idea. I can assure you. I feel it, mixed with hate and despair, _right now_. And you, you heartless bastard, are the one that is causing all these emotions to swirl up inside me."

William pushed up his glasses and rubbed at his temples to sooth the headache that he could feel coming along, trying desperately not to give in to his emotions and start yelling back at Grell and insulting her for all he was worth. He didn't want to do that, not wanting to stress her and the children she was carrying. Slowly, William sat down, still looking up at Grell with a dubious expression.

"I know, for you, Grell, that love is a very real thing. You feel it for every attractive man you see, do you not? You claim to, anyways." William leant back in his seat, closing his eyes and hoping that Grell didn't decide that instead of screaming at him she was going to summon her scythe and throw herself at him. "But I cannot let myself feel love, for I find it a very dangerous game to play, and do not have enough faith in my emotions to allow myself to use them that way."

That stopped Grell in her tracks, her jaw dropping open to consider him through her glasses, tears dripping down her face in the frustration and her skin turning blotchy. She looked a true mess, with mascara blackening her cheeks and some of her hair coming out, her red skirt rumpled and her white sleeves rolled up, her brown waistcoat hanging open over that. Struggling for words, she stared at him for a moment, before tottering over to her desk and slumping into her seat, shock still spread across her features.

"You mean to tell me that the reason you won't love me is because you think I'm a _player_?" Finally, her voice came out, outrage, shock, horror and despair all rolled into one. It made William wince to think of the way he was playing with her emotions. Then again, he wasn't entirely sure how. He had been nothing but straight with her, giving her all the facts and details as he saw them. And she had always seemed so confident and assured of her emotions that he had never even considered the fact that she was just as scared of the effects of love as he was.

"You think that I'll get bored of you? That I'll just up and leave you? That I'd do that to the children? To _you_?" Grell shoved her paperwork to the side as she noticed that her tears were dripping on it, and somewhere in the back of his mind William felt annoyance at her ruining the otherwise perfect piece of paperwork – well, perfect save for the fact that it had been completed in red ink, instead of black. "William, I love you."

"You keep saying that," William pointed out, not entirely sure how he was supposed to respond. What exactly was it that Grell was trying to tell him? Shaking his head, William pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, feeling the headache coming on stronger. "But I don't understand what you want me to do about it. I don't love you, Grell. We have discussed this on multiple occasions."

"But you said you would try," Grell whined, letting her face drop into her hands as her elbows slammed into the hard wood of the desk. She didn't even wince. "And now you're telling me you won't."

William wondered where she had got that impression. He had never said anything of the sort. Then again, he hadn't told her that he wasn't really getting to know her. He already knew, if he let himself let go of his cold and stoic attitude towards her, that he would love her instantly. _He_ knew that the getting to know her bit was for his own benefit, to see if she would stick by him, or if her eyes would stray from him even when she was with him. It was a test, he supposed, to see if he should stick his neck out for this emotion she was feeling then, and clearly Grell didn't like the fact that he was doing it, not understanding, but he understood. So why wouldn't she just let him, for his own sake?

"I never said that," William finally pointed out, stiffly, not entirely sure how to say what he was trying to say. "I never said that I wouldn't get to know you, Grell."

"But you just told me that you were scared to fall in love, and that therefore, you wouldn't."

"Yes," Nodding slightly, William's eyes danced to the Jaffa Cake box that he had thrown onto the table before, longing for one. "But I was lying. I would fall in love," he looked like he was in pain saying the words. "If I could be sure about it."

"Honestly, William" Grell shook her head, fiddling with her skirt and looking down, pushing up her glasses only when they seemed to be in danger of falling off of her face completely. "I have loved you for ninety years already," she looked up, meeting his eyes. "Why would I stop now?"

"You have children now," William pointed out, having heard of couples that drifted apart when their children came along, neither seeing each other for as long as they would like anymore, or having time to be together. Some women had affairs with other men to get the attention they needed because their husband was too worn out with work and children, and the same thing happened to men. He was scared, he knew, that Grell would be the same. And why wouldn't she be, when she had such a high sex drive? "Loves, especially in the Reaper Realm, have been known to change after that. And you, of all people, should know. Are you not the go-to… girl… for gossip?"

"Mine wouldn't," Grell pouted, but abated, eyes dancing across her desk and unable to meet William's eyes. Finally, she found the Jaffa Cake box and opened it, pulling out two of the treats and mashing them in her hands, not feeling like eating at all. "You know it wouldn't. You're just being a coward. And I'm starting to doubt the sticking power of children with you, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Grell stated diplomatically, finally taking a nibble at the mangled crumbs in her hand. "You hardly seem like you want them. You do, don't you, William?"

William blanched at that. Did he want the children? It was a hard question. He hadn't really had the time to learn to love them, and they would undoubtedly be as difficult as their mother. Furthermore, he had never really wanted children in the first place, and they would definitely make his life harder. But the thought of something so small and precious being his, with little tiny fingers and a fuzz of dark hair in its head, with wide, inquisitive green eyes and a happy, giggling smile… his heart clenched suddenly, and he knew, in his heart, that he wanted them, no matter what.

No matter what, he wanted a little tiny baby that would clench at his finger and use it for a teething ring, who would bounce on his lap happily and who would cause no end of annoyances when it cried in the night. And then he thought about more than one. Maybe a baby with his stern looking face, but a fuzz of bright hair and sharp teeth, bossing the other one around in its gibberish language, and smiled slightly, but it was so unobvious and small that no one but he could tell that it was there.

" _Oh my God_ ," Grell cried, pointing an accusing finger at him that shook just a little, a look of horror on her face. "You _don't_ want them, do you? Why in _any_ Realm would you decide to help me if you actually didn't care at all? It really is just so that you don't look like the lowest of the low in front of your subordinates, isn't it?"

"Of course not, Grell," William assured her, wondering how she could be so blind. Wasn't it written all over his face just how much he wanted the children? Then again, he supposed, his expression barely ever changed, even when he was trying. Sometimes, he was convinced that someone had painted his face with superglue, just to make it stick. "Of course I want the children. In fact, I was merely thinking about them, that is all. That is the reason that I didn't reply."

"Oh," Grell looked both relieved and embarrassed at the same time, yet defiance was still written all over her face. "Well, in that case, William, I'm sorry that I accused you of not caring. But you can see why, can't you? You don't act like you care at all."

"Grell," William started, before being cut off by Grell, who had stood up and walked towards the door. He had no idea where she was going, but it appeared to be that she was leaving, especially when she put her coat on, letting it hang off of her shoulders like always. The only problem was, the red of the coat did not match that of the skirt, which made it look a little ridiculous, especially as the skirt was so long, and the coat only hung to her knees. "-Where are you going?"

"Home," Grell replied, walking back over to the desk and snatching up her food, before handing William back the pot rather violently, before resting her hand on the brass handle of the door. William blinked at her, not entirely sure what to do. "I'm tired, and I think I need a long bath to cool down. We can talk some other time, William."

"Tomorrow, after work," William nodded, before standing up himself and pushing his glasses up, stiff and formal before her as always. "I will take you to a restaurant and we shall talk over a meal."

"Like, as in-" Grell hesitated to say it, William could see, not wanting to start another argument. Finally, she gave in, saying what she wanted to. "Like as in a date?"

"If you want it to be," William allowed, walking forwards a bit to look down at her redhead before him. "I shall be paying, of course, and it is a fancy restaurant, so I would suggest wearing something longer than you normally do, though today is the exception."

"Really?" Grell asked, eyes lighting up. She knew she was a mess, and he knew it too, but still, William had to admit that she looked, save for the odd combination of skirt and coat, rather beautiful. Her hair was done tastefully and she was a mess, he admitted, but still very attractive. Shaking his mind of the thought, knowing that that was the sort of thinking that had led them into this mess in the first place, William nodded in confirmation of Grell's questions. "Oh, thank you William."

She threw her arms around him then, astonishing him, before pulling back and looking down in embarrassment, her cheeks flushing brightly, though not with her happy flush, but her upset one.

"I'm sorry," she managed, shuffling her heels against the floor. "I know you don't want me to touch you like that."

"I suppose I'm going to have to get used to it," William murmured, looking down at the redhead, and she looked up in surprise, eyes bright. "After all, we are going to be seeing a lot of each other."

"Yes," Grell smiled slightly, before reaching up and holding his shoulders, balancing herself on tiptoes and giving him a peck on the cheek, she whispered a quick goodbye before exciting the room, leaving William staring after her.

Knowing he was blushing slightly and that his emotions were a mess, William checked the time on the clock, thankful that it was past time to go home for the evening. He had work still left to finish, he knew, but it was only a few pages and he could do it tomorrow, in his lunch break if need be. He had less work the next day anyway, as it was a half day at work, and he was going on a… a date?... with Grell. Not entirely sure as how that came to be, he walked out of the building in a sort of daze, confusion running through his mind, and he knew he would need a good few hours to work through what he was thinking and file everything away into order in his mind. Sighing, he shook his head. How on earth could one redhead confuse him so much? He got the feeling he would never know how, nor why he allowed it.

 **Author's Note: Sorry that Grell is OOC, though I tried to make her as dramatic as I could while being OOC, so still hopefully in character whilst being out of it, if that makes sense. Anyway, she's going to be happier in the next chapter, so don't worry on that aspect. Also, sorry if the writing is terrible. It's half past midnight at the moment, so I'm not expecting it to be my best – though I tend to write better when I'm tired. Hope you enjoyed.**


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, only Frieda Irwin, Bianca Shepard and the plotline.

Difficult Love Chapter Nine

Grell sat in her afternoon room, waiting for Bianca and Frieda to arrive so that they could assist her in getting ready for the date that she had with William that night. It was three in the afternoon, and she had already had her bath the minute she got home, her hair still pouring down her back in a red curtain, dampness still clinging to it as she waited in a red towel. Looking around, wondering what the two would show up in, Grell praised herself once more for the decoration of her living room.

It was red, as always, with massive windows and a curve that they followed in one wall, red drapes hanging over them. Oval mirrors with fancy gold frames hung between the windows, a glass chandelier hanging from the fancy, plaster cast ceiling. There was a piano in one corner, which she played occasionally, and many desks and tables of dark wood scattered themselves around the floor space, gold framed photos sitting on them, many of her and William, though some of her and her friends. There was a particularly nice one of Jorge carrying her whilst she wore a bright red gown, hair done up elegantly as they exited a ball, Frieda and Bianca behind them, Frieda herself wearing a man's outfit, so that the two girls could dance together 'as friends'. A few red suede covered chairs were scattered around the room, along with the chaise lounge, which she was currently draped over. Lamps scattered the room and she marvelled at the grandeur of it, smiling at how she had won a house with so many bedrooms in a bet once, knowing now that she was going to need them all, eventually.

Finally, Bianca and Frieda walked into the room, Bianca in a simple purple gown with a short black overskirt and waistcoat, a bowler hat fixed onto her head and a black umbrella in hand, a silver chain for a pocket watch making itself visible across the black material of her waistcoat. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and the white of it provided an interesting contrast against her dress, though it was still extraordinarily messy. Grell rushed over to hug her, smiling slightly as Bianca gushed over her pregnant state with glee, holding her at arm's length and giving the redhead a chance to study Frieda, who was also looking happy, clearly thankful for the half day.

She was in a pale blue gown with a low neckline and a row of bows running down the front of the tight bodice, the sleeves belling out and the dress trailing behind her, white gloves on her hands. She had a black choker with a gold locket around her neck and gold hung from her ears. Her hair was pulled into high pigtails, and she would have looked childish, if not for her ability to pull anything off and still look mature. She winked at the redhead, before dragging Bianca back and telling her to give Grell some room.

"So, Honey," Bianca asked, shoving her hair back as it fell into her eyes again and causing Grell to laugh a little. "Why are we here?"

"Haven't you heard?" Grell seemed surprised, turning to Frieda questioningly. Hadn't her friend told the other girl about her date with William? Clearly not, if the embarrassed look on her face was anything to go by. "Oh. Well… I'm going on a date with William tonight, so I have to look perfect."

"And you decided that you would let your fairy-godmothers help you? Good choice, honey, good choice."

Grell smiled then, before leaping to her feet and clutching at her towel as it nearly fell down, laughing with the others as they left the room and headed for her bedroom. They immediately sat her down on her other chaise lounge, which sat at the foot of her bed, before heading off into the walk-in-wardrobe, determined to find something to wear.

When they reappeared they were holding her chemise and corset in their hands, Bianca eyeing the thing dubiously, as if it were about to spring up and bite her. Grell knew why. Bianca had always been obsessed with children and all things baby, and she would be worried of the damaged that the corset would do to the babies that Grell was carrying. Briefly, Grell wondered just how much Bianca knew of her pregnancy, but decided that she had got bored of explaining the rules of it to people who just got confused, so decided to surprise the girl at the birth, if she didn't already know the potential amount of children.

"Just do it up loosely," impatiently, Grell slipped her chemise on behind the screen, before allowing Bianca to slip in behind her. "It only has to be tight enough to make my waist fit my dress, and I'm pretty sure that Riri is going to be finding me a loose fitting item."

"You'd be right there," Frieda chimed, coming around the screen with a black and red bundle in her arms, watching as Bianca tugged experimentally on it. "Oh, give it here, An," she chastised, handing the dress over to the smaller Reaper and tugging more firmly on the corset, tying the thing up easily and loosely, only tight enough so that it moulded itself to Grell's body shape. "Now, put that on."

Grell eyed the bundle dubiously, unsure. She could see that the material was red and black chequered, with lace for decoration here and there, though it had been so long since Grell had walked as far back into the wardrobe as Frieda must have, considering that it had a wide waist, so was from a time before she wore corsets, that she couldn't remember what the dress looked like for the life of her.

Sighing, the two girls stuck her arms up and yanked the gown over her head, none too gently, knocking her glasses off her nose. Grumbling at their inconsideration, she fished a hand inside the front of her dress, under thin lace that covered the low neckline, and pulled her glasses back up, slipping them back onto her nose again and glaring. The girls just laughed, before using a buttonhook to do up the back of the dress, the shapeless thing becoming more fitted as it straightened up over her bustle frame and corset. Before long she was ready – ready to be yanked out from behind the screen and further into the room, where the two girls ran a brush none too gently through her hair.

"Dammit, girls," Hissing through her teeth, Grell turned to glare at the two, who were sitting on her bed above her, a great many pins and hair accessories scattered around them. "Couldn't you be just a little gentler? Pretty please?"

"Beauty hurts, Honey," Bianca replied, grinning wickedly, and giving Grell the feeling that she liked using her friend as a doll. "And we're going to make you the most beautiful girl out there. He's going to be unable to say no."

"If you say so – _hey_!" Everything had gone fuzzy before her as Frieda stole her glasses, and she turned around to face away from the two again, wondering what was going on behind her.

Finally brushed, careful fingers ran through her hair, considering. "You're hair's still damp," she was informed, before another gentle tug informed Grell that the girl's had an idea. "So we're going to braid it. That way, when you take it out tomorrow, it will be crimped."

"Oh, yes," Grell agreed, smiling and fiddling with a spare strand that had fallen in front of her eyes, the red blur blocking out some further red blurs that she could just make out the shape of. She was aware that William had very bad eyesight, and wondered if he would ever be able to tell anything in her house apart without his glasses. The image of him stumbling into things whilst searching for his glasses, her sitting and fiddling with them as she sat on the back of a sofa amused her, and she giggled slightly as she felt the finish braid being wound up at the back of her head, being coiled into a bun from what it was. After that, some ruby pins were shoved in, keeping it in place, and the hat was placed atop her head, before the two girls moved her once more, positioning her in front of a mirror, then spinning the chair so that she was facing them.

"Makeup time," Bianca chimed, causing Grell to gulp a little. She had never been one for much makeup, just a touch here and there so that she didn't look like she was a pantomime dame, but Bianca was known for her love of makeup – in fact, even now her eyes were ringed with great deals of eyeliner and mascara, plum coloured lipstick on her lips, matching the material of her dress. Hopefully, Frieda would be able to tune the amount down.

Grell felt a brush over her eyelids and shifted slightly, tickled by the feeling, and powder was brushed over her face, also making her giggle and wriggle a little. Mascara was brushed over her red lashes, leaving them the same length as always, but much more obvious, and her lips were covered in some colour of lipstick, which Grell could only presume was red. After that, her already perfect nails were shaped and repainted, the same happening to her feet before she was told to wait a few minutes, which she did, then put on some stockings and heels, which she also did. Finally, finally finished, Grell was allowed to stand in front of the mirror, and gasped at what she saw.

Her dress was made of black and red chequered silk, the skirt slit open down the front to reveal a ruffled black underskirt, making the whole dress seem tasteful, especially the flaring, black lace cuffs of the sleeves which reached to her wrists. Black lace gloves had been slipped over her hands, making her look dainty, and her chest was covered by black lace stopping only when it reached her neck, which was covered by a choker of rubies, glinting in the pale light of the room. Her hair was all neatly tucked away, no loose ends to be seen, and she was slightly taller than normal, in a pair of heels that she saved for special occasions. There was a black bowler sat jauntily atop her head, covered in the same red and black chequered material as her dress and decorated with a fake red rose and a few black feathers sticking up, a black ribbon tying it under her jaw. Red ruby studs sat in her ears, throwing sparkles onto her powdered face.

And looking at her face, she had to admit that William would find it hard to dislike her. Her eyes were brushed with a pale gold, her cheeks a pinkish colour, done tastefully so that it faded into her creamy skin. Her eyebrows were plucked perfectly and her lips were painted a bright red, which made them look fuller. All in all, she had to admit, that her friends had not done too shabby a job. In fact, she realised, she would be calling them in to help her with future dates again.

Just as Grell was turning to congratulate her friends, a ring sounded at the door, causing all the girl's heads to jolt around in unison. Flapping her hands and becoming far too over excited, Grell rushed around, nervous, until Frieda snapped her fingers in her face and told her to snap out of it because William was waiting. Finally quiet, Grell fiddled with the skirt of her dress as she walked down the stairs, prepared to greet William at her door.

Frieda was the one to open it, Bianca standing in front of Grell to hide her, though the job she was doing was terrible, as she was about a foot shorter than the redheaded ball of excitement. Pulling the door open wide, Frieda allowed William's eyes to rest upon Bianca first, before she giggled and stepped away, revealing Grell to William, face shining in expectation of the compliment she would get. It never came.

"How on earth did you come by this house?" Was what was said instead, causing Grell to slam one of her feet into the ground in protest, nearly toppling when she landed on the heel wrong. They really were very high, she decided, and wondered where they had come from. She certainly didn't remember buying them… then again, there was that brief stint she had had where she wore very slutty outfits, doing anything to win William's attention.

"That is not what you're supposed to say to a lady on a date, William." Crying out, Grell grabbed William's arm and stormed him out of the house, not wanting Frieda and Bianca to bear witness to her and her love's constant fights. William, she decided was impossible. Without struggling, the man followed after her, having little choice in the matter as his arm had been caught in the vice of Grell's grip, her other hand catching onto the door and swinging it closed behind her, smiling and waving at Bianca and Frieda behind her in an attempt to reassure them. They didn't look too convinced, but they waved back all the same.

"I apologise," William's voice was as monotonous as always, him barely even looking sideways as he was dragged down the street by Grell, her already knowing where they were going. It was a lovely little place not far from where she lived, and she had been there before. Knowing it well, Grell had no worries that she would make any social gaffs or end up doing something stupid, and was thankful that William had chosen the restaurant without her having to suggest the place. "I have never dated anyone before. I am not entirely sure of how it works."

" _Never_?" Astonishment ran through every syllable of Grell's voice and she stopped to stare at the man next to her. He had his hair smoothed back as always, and was wearing a suit of completely black material, though it was fitted better than his work attire and he had elegant cufflinks, along with black gloves with mother of pearl buttons keeping it closed, Grell thinking that it was a rather feminine touch, but not mentioning it. He smelled nice, too, his normal smell mixed with cut grass, leaving Grell wondering if he had been walking through a park recently, and soap, so he had clearly cleaned himself up. Even his glasses shined with a certain brightness that wasn't normally there. Somehow, Grell couldn't help thinking that no matter how much the man said that he did not love her, he still couldn't help but go to a lot of effort for her. He shook his head in regards to her last question. "Well, then, allow me to teach you."

"You have to say that a person looks lovely," Grell continued, looking him up and down once more and smiling, the tips of her sharp teeth just visible behind her ruby red lips. "Which you do, by the way, William."

"Thank you, Grell," William replied, a faint flush appearing on his cheeks. He wasn't used to being complimented, and he looked away from Grell before talking again. "You look lovely too."

"Do you really think so?" Gushing, Grell launched into an explanation of all that had been going on with her life that day, including her getting ready, William flushing once more when she mentioned her bath in rose petals, even more so when she shoved her wrist into his face for him to sample the smell.

Even through being seated Grell spoke, desperate to make her time with William worthwhile, and when the time came to order she chose her usual, starting up immediately afterwards and only stopping when William looked bored out of his mind. It had taken longer than Grell had expected, and she wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe William really did like being with her, but was too scared she would leave him, like he had implied the day before. If that was the case, she was determined to prove to him that she would always be there.

"Anyway," She finished, smiling at William and scraping the last of her main meal off of her plate, hungry, as was the norm for her by then. "You probably don't want to hear about my recent escapades into fashion. Is there anything in particular that you want to talk about?"

Sipping at the orange juice in front of her, Grell pulled a face, murmuring to herself about how the flavour could really do with some cinnamon. In fact, Grell noticed, she thought everything could do with some cinnamon. Laughing, slightly, Grell lowered her head to look up at William from under her lashes, children on her mind.

"So," she started, causing the black haired man to look up from the last scraps of his meal and study her with interest. "Do you have any guesses about how many children that I'm carrying?"

"No," William turned back to his dinner, elegantly stabbing the roast beef with the fork and lifting it to his lips. "Although, I am fairly sure that you have some theories."

"Of course," Grell smiled indulgently, taking another sip of orange juice and declaring it to be bland and tasteless. "Though I think that we should name one of the girls Cinnamon, as they seem to like the flavour of it so much."

"No," Firmly, William disagreed with the idea, saying that no child of his would be called Cinnamon. "Nor, Grell," he added rather hastily. "Will they be called anything like Ruby, Scarlet or Crimson."

"Oh, _William_." Grell whined, making puppy dog eyes and a pouting face at her man sitting across from her, fluttering her lashes and clasping her fingers, only stopping when she felt her lashes brush across the lenses of her glasses, not wanting any mascara to smear onto the implements that allowed her to see. "Fine, what would you have us call them?"

"Something regular," William replied, placing his knife and fork together on the plate and taking a sip of his wine, seeming to relax as the red liquid hit his tongue. "Such as Constance or James."

" _Please_ tell me you're joking, Willy-darling," Grell begged, voice high-pitched. "Why would you want regular children? What about… Isolabella or… Juliet?"

"Do you have any prepared names for male children?" Grell just shook her head, smiling down at her stomach and rubbing it slightly, before glancing up and around, searching for the waiter. Finally, she located him and called him over, ordering herself some orange pieces with some chocolate cake in a bowl, with cream over the top of it and cinnamon sprinkled over that.

"Not really, honey," Turning back to William after he ordered some simple ice cream, Grell amending his request to ice-cream with strawberries sprinkled on it, which William hadn't appeared to mind, and definitely got a less odd look than Grell's request from the waiter, Grell picked up their conversation again. "I just don't think that we're going to need any male names… not this time, anyway."

"You should still have some. It is better to be fully prepared." William pointed out, rearranging the salt and pepper shakers on the table and neatening everything up, causing Grell to laugh and brush his hands away, with an exclaim of him needing to loosen up. "You cannot possibly have five girls. Not if they're all fraternal."

"Well, I _could_ ," Smirking, Grell decided to annoy William a little, before relenting when his eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "But it would be very unlikely. And I doubt I'm actually carrying five at the moment, darling. I'm sure I would be larger if that were the case. An thinks that I will have triplets, though I'm thinking less… so maybe two girls? Did you particularly want a son, darling, because we could always try again afterwards…. Well, apparently we have to."

"I will be content with two daughters if that is what you think we will have, though I suppose that it would have been nice to have had one of each." Thanking the waiter as he brought over their food, William took a bite of his ice-cream and strawberries and hummed in enjoyment as Grell hummed over her food, eyes closing in delight at the flavour. "Though I suppose you are correct in thinking that we will have a son eventually…"

Sharply, Grell glanced up, brushing a few escaped strands of hair away from her face as she stared at William in surprise. Was he saying what she thought that he was saying? That he really did want a family with her?

"As it appears to be a law of nature that you will have thirteen children."

Grell's heart sank in disappointment, before perking up a little. He had still said that he would be the father, so maybe he had already let himself trust her without knowing about it. Hope rose up in her once more and she smiled indulgently, licking her lips to catch the spare flavours as they burst in her mouth.

"Well, wouldn't you want to know?" Winking at him, she stole one of his strawberries, before dipping it in the cinnamon cream and popping it in her mouth in one quick motion. Speaking through it, knowing it was poor manners but not caring, Grell continued on. "Though, there is something that I have been thinking on, Will honey. If you are to act as a true father to these children, then you _are_ going to have to live with me, you know." She waggled her finger at him to emphasise the point, cheekily.

"Yes," Darkly, William responded, not looking too happy at the conversation topic. "I have been thinking on that too. I believe that you shall be pleasantly surprised to know that I would not be opposed to living with you, so long as I have my own bedroom."

"Really?" Grell squealed, before clapping her hands and leaning over the table to hug William, messing up his hair slightly and laughing because of it. "I have a spare room… well, around seventeen spare rooms, actually, though only four are decorated. You can have the one that An, Riri and Jorge don't stay in."

"Thank you," William nodded, finishing off his ice-cream at the same time as Grell finished her mess of ingredients. He watched as she stood up, their eyes connecting, and both stood there for a second, not moving. Finally, Grell leaned down and hugged William, brushing her skirt away behind her and awkwardly breathing in his scent, wishing that he would hold her like that always.

"Thank you, Willy-darling," she breathed, pulling back and looking away, rather sadly, but still happily at the same time. She didn't know how she could contradict herself in such a way, but she managed it, confusion clear in her eyes. "And thank you, for proving to me that you will love the children, even if you don't love me."

She had planned to say the phrase anyway, but she thought that he really did deserve t that night. He had shown to her that he didn't mind being a father, even if it was to thirteen, an already predetermined amount. He also didn't mind what gender the children would be, saying that he would like one of each… or more as the case may be, she supposed. Furthermore, he had agreed to live with her for the sake of the children, so he truly would make a good father, though he had done little that night to show he loved her, only listening to her when she spoke, which was more curtesy than he normally payed her, she supposed.

Drawing her out of her thoughts, William stood next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. She looked up at him in confusion, before receiving a kiss to the cheek that made her face heat, probably to the temperature of a burning building.

"Goodnight, Grell," he murmured, still close to her ear, before pulling back and slipping his arms into his coat, neatening it out and refusing to meet her eyes as he spoke. "I wouldn't give up hope, either, of me loving you. You appear to have a much nicer personality than I originally thought, even if you do waste entire pots of elastic bands on your ridiculous hairstyles."

Hands flying to her hair, Grell scowled, yelling that her hairstyles were not ridiculous, and accidentally setting her hat to a tilting angle, or at least, more so than it was already, making her think that she must look like a sailor and an idiot. William didn't laugh, however. Then again, Grell thought, he never laughed. In fact, if he did laugh, she would probably be concerned that he had been kidnapped by demons and replaced with one of their own who hadn't studied the man well enough, so she wasn't really reassured that she didn't look stupid.

"Well," Grell breathed, surprised that William would say something so nice to her. "I suppose a thank you is in order. Thank you, William."

"You're welcome," William said, for lack of anything better to say. Finally, he leant forwards and kissed her on the cheek again and left, saying nothing else. Grell's eyes followed after him and she smiled, hands resting protectively and lovingly on her belly.

"You hear that, little ones?" Grell asked, still staring at William's retreating back and grinning giddily, like a maniac. "Maybe your Daddy will love Mummy too, one day. Maybe even before you're born. What do you say to that?"

Grell left the question hanging in the air, as if waiting for the reply from her children, which obviously never came. After waiting a few more minutes, Grell grabbed her own wraparound and hurried out the door, grinning from ear to ear and ready to tell Frieda and Bianca _all_ about her prefect date with her perfect man.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, only Jorge, Bianca and Frieda, and this particular storyline.

Difficult Love Chapter Ten

Bianca, Frieda and Grell sat in the kitchen together, Bianca clearing the wooden surfaces and Frieda standing by the stove, cooking a large tureen of soup, hoping to keep it so that Grell could have some whenever she was peckish. However, the redhead wasn't helping much, tapping her feet against the floor sulkily and trying to put some cinnamon into the soup every few minutes, only being fended off by Frieda's angry glare, which got even angrier when Grell spilt some of the tasty spice all over the silver haired woman's new blue and brown gown. After that, Frieda had got serious, pulling her hair into pigtails, before sitting Grell down in a seat and forcing Bianca to watch over her, wrestling the cinnamon away from her and shoving a pack of Jaffa Cakes into the redhead's hands.

Because of that, Grell sat pouting and fuming, stuffing her face with Jaffa Cakes as Bianca stood over her, still barely reaching a taller height than the redhead due to her tiny height, and fiddled with her blue and yellow striped dress, fiddling with the blue hat pulled over her white hair, which was pulled into a long, side ponytail, strands escaping from it all over the shop, just as usual.

"Grell," Bianca finally asked, turning her back on the redhead for barely a moment, only to shut the short white curtains over the window, the kitchen never having been redecorated save for the red and black tiling on the floor. When she turned back, Grell was already half way out of her seat, leaving Bianca to wrestle her back into it again. "Grell, why are you wearing that dress? I thought it was for special occasions?"

"It was…" Grell agreed, pouting up at Bianca and clearly hoping to be let out of her seat. "When I didn't wear a corset all the time and had very short hair. Now, I'm only wearing it because you won't let me wear a corset."

"Think of the children Grell!" Bianca cried, shocked to hear that her friend would still wish to continue wearing a corset, despite knowing that she was pregnant. "You would crush them."

"I'm not stupid, An," Grell replied, throwing the empty box of Jaffa Cakes at Frieda's back and looking away innocently when the other turned round. She turned back without incident, knowing that it was Grell that did it but not bothering to bring it up, noticing how the volatile redhead's temper had been even stranger than usual recently, probably due to all the raging hormones in her body now that she was pregnant. "I don't want to wear a corset. But I don't want to get fat either. And these kiddos are going to make me fatter than an elephant."

Dramatically, Grell draped herself across the table, her red hair fanning itself across the wooden surface and the red silk of her gown slipping across the surface with a hushed sliver of a sound. It was a very beautiful dress too, with long red sleeves and white lace cuffs that hung off the shoulder, the neckline and waist trimmed with the same white lace, along with the bustle and the bottom of the skirt, which finished in a red train that Bianca had tripped over far too many times in that single day. Her bustle was decorated with two white bows and she had a leather band about her wrist, though neither Bianca nor Frieda knew where she had found it.

"Besides," Grell trilled, perking up a bit along with her train of thoughts. "I'm wearing this lovely thing for William, An dear. He should just love to see me like this, I think. He is coming soon, after all."

"Yes, yes," An smiled, knowing the story. Grell had taken great pains to explain the entire date, especially the part where William agreed to live in the same house as her, multiple times that day. "Though, you do know, don't you honey, that he may be coming tomorrow, not today, right?"

"I _know_ that, Darling," Grell stood up once more, moving to inspect the soup, cinnamon left on the table. "But I can't be too careful. I've got to look my best for Willy-darling, no?"

"Yes, yes," Frieda murmured, pushing the redhead away discreetly, "Willy-darling is so perfect, Willy-darling is coming to live with you. Can we change the tune, just for a little while? You sound like a broken record."

"That's not fair!" Grell exclaimed, picking up a bread roll from the side and dipping it into the soup whilst Frieda had her back turned, causing Bianca to laugh. Quickly, she rushed back over to the table, taking a small bite and grimacing at it. "Honestly, Riri, this soup would be a _whole_ lot better with some cinnamon in it. Why won't you take my advice?"

With that, she sprinkled some cinnamon onto the roll she was eating, humming delightedly when she took a bite from the thing. Bianca grimaced, Frieda rolling her eyes and stirring the soup some more, before tasting it and bringing it off of the stove, ready to pour into bowls for the three of them. Quickly, she ushered the other two towards the dining room, carrying the bowls of soup on a tray behind them, Grell hiding the bottle of cinnamon in the folds of her dress as they walked.

"Well, why?" She pressed, taking another bite of the roll and smiling at its spicy aroma. "Cinnamon is _so_ nice, after all."

"We won't take your suggestion, Grell, because _we_ have to eat the soup too, you know, Honey."

"Uh, so mean," Grell pressed a hand to her forehead dramatically, taking the last bite of her roll in unison with her entering the dining room. She quickly walked to the far end of the table and sat in the chair, ignoring the questioning looks that the other girls gave her. She always sat at the far end, never near the door, and even she didn't know why, but it was a habit. "Humph."

With that, she folded her arms and refused to talk to the two until she had poured cinnamon into her soup and onto her second roll, lightening up when she got a nice flavour for her and a ghastly flavour for everyone else. But seeing as they didn't have to eat her soup, they didn't complain. The smells of warm vegetables, spices and meats were rising to their noses, causing them to sigh and relax, and before long they had all finished their second helping, Bianca rushing to the kitchen that time, to heat the soup up and return with it, Grell still convinced that it tasted better with the brown spice that she appeared to love so much.

Full to bursting, the three ladies all leant back, groaning with contentment as they felt their stomachs full to bursting. Before long, however, there was a knock at the door, exciting Grell. It was her William, she knew, coming to stay with her, and she was very happy. Rushing to her feet, she was only stopped as Bianca pushed her down, telling her to stay put while she and Frieda led her man to her, along with heating up some more soup and bringing out a few more rolls. Grell's only response to that had been a nod, before a 'bring me more soup, please' a few seconds later.

It wasn't long before the warmed soup was sitting in front of her, sprinkled with cinnamon once more. Waiting patiently, Grell decided not to eat the soup, seeing as it was still steaming anyway, and sit quietly in anticipation of William's arrival to the dining room instead. Before too long, the door clicked, revealing the silver and white haired ladies and her black haired supervisor behind them, looking rather amazed at the size of the house, though his expression had barely changed.

"It's so red," he walked further into the room, thanking the girls behind him as they shut the door and left, not even bothering to say goodbye to Grell. They knew it would be pointless. She was completely wrapped up in William. "Honestly."

"You don't like it?" Grell pouted, eyes turning big as William sat next to her, where a silver bowl of soup sat. "But I designed every room myself, save for the entryway… and a few of the bedrooms that I haven't got around to doing yet."

"And just how many bedrooms does this house have, exactly?"

"Well," Grell tapped her fingers together, trying to remember the exact amount. It wasn't an easy task, especially considering the fact that she hadn't been inside most of them. Sometimes, she wondered why she had wanted to win the house so badly in the first place. "There's my bedroom, then four spare bedrooms that I've decorated, and… twelve? I think twelve spare bedrooms that I haven't touched yet."

"Seventeen bedrooms? Honestly, Grell, what could you possibly need with that many bedrooms?" William took a sip of his soup, complementing the chef for her good work, which jolted Grell's mind back to Frieda and Bianca. Where had they gone, anyway?

"Well, you and I both know that I won this house in a bet, along with a lot of money." Grell dipped her roll into her cinnamon soup, ignoring the look of distaste on William's face when he caught the scent of the spice. "Did Riri and An tell you where they were going?"

"Riri and An?" William raised an eyebrow, at first uncertain as to who Grell meant, but then realising that the redhead meant the two ladies who had led him to the room. "I suppose you mean Miss Irwin and Miss Shepherd?" At Grell's nod, William continued, ignoring the blush on the redhead's cheeks that always sprung up when he was around. "They told me to inform you that they had decided to stay with Mr Payne for the night. They mentioned something to do with attending a theatre production."

"Romeo and Juliet," Grell replied, finishing off her soup and roll and smiling at William, her blush strengthening and her eyes shining. Seeing him eating in her own home was a big deal to her, though it wouldn't seem like it. He was just so close, in her dining room, where she had always imagined that he would be one day, had always hoped for, but never really believed that he would. And now he was, and she was just delighted at that fact. "It's a little like our story, no?"

"In what way is Romeo and Juliet similar to us, Grell?" Grell had to give the man credit, he was trying to be civil and polite, but her mouth often ran away from her when she was with him, and she got distracted all the time, just blurting whatever romantic mush came into her mouth in the desperate hopes to win him over. Sighing miserably, Grell started with her feeble explanation.

"Because we have a forbidden love and there is great tragedy involved?"

"How many times, Grell," William sighed, also finishing off his soup, before standing, ready to carry the trays to the kitchen, though Grell brushed his hands away, doing it herself. "We do not share a love, though I did promise I would try. Now, please explain to me the great tragedy you are talking about."

"The fact that I can't put cinnamon in the soup so that everyone can enjoy the taste?" Questioningly, Grell gave her explanation, causing William to roll his eyes to the sky, probably in search of a quick escape. Grell giggled at his exasperated expression and walked down the halls to the kitchen, William following behind her, inspecting the rooms as they passed them. She had chosen to ignore the part where William said he didn't love her, though her heard did clench in pain a little.

"That is hardly a tragedy, Grell." William appeared a little taken aback by the kitchen, though this didn't surprise Grell. Only the floor had been renovated in the room, tiles black and red and shining on the floor, creating a staccato tapping noise as the redhead's heels tapped across it. The rest of the thing had been left as it was, including the wooden surfaces and cupboards that were almost orange and the simple porcelain sink that sat deep into the surfaces, the white almost glowing in the light of the gas lamps. The walls were white at the top, meeting with a black border halfway down and becoming flowery pink wallpaper. There were a few flower embroideries on the walls and the windows were not much bigger than the frames, white curtains hanging over them.

"Did you decorate this room, too, Grell? It doesn't appear to be up to the same standard as the rest of them."

"Was that a compliment I just heard from you, Willy-darling?" Grell asked, wiggling a finger at the man and smiling, whilst washing the plates up in water she had just run, before drying them and putting them away, William looking a little uncomfortable that she was doing all the work. "That's _ever_ so sweet of you, you know."

"I believe it was a passing remark, Grell," William edged away as Grell slunk closer to him, feeling like he was being stalked by a predator. "Hardly to be construed as a compliment."

"Ah, but you see, I didn't decorate this room, save for the floor, so really it _is_ a complement." Grell explained, before pulling William along down the hallway and straight into her evening room. It was bright with red paper on the walls that had some brighter red pattern on it. The chandelier was crystal and glowed with a white light, throwing it around the room in a rather moody effect. There was a sofa and two soft, red, plush chairs, along with a bookcase running all the way around the bottom half of the walls, paintings of her, Bianca, Frieda and Jorge resting on the walls and on top of the bookcases. Catching her attention every time she entered the room was a picture of her and William, hanging above her black marble fireplace, him looking as moody as ever, but standing with her as they had just received their new glasses, her looking down, as if facing her red carpet, blushing, probably at something he had just said. She couldn't quite recall the time they had spent together so long ago, but she knew she had loved him for that long.

Coughing awkwardly as his eyes landed on the painting, William went straight for an armchair and sat in it, regardless of Grell's imaginings of sitting on the couch and snuggling in together. Then again, she should have known that they wouldn't. William kept telling her that he had no interest in her romantically, at least yet, and she really should have respected that, but she was also very excited to have the man in her house, and definitely wanted her fantasies to play out, though they weren't going to.

"How about Poppy?" Grell asked, smiling sweetly as William turned to her.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean." William replied, eyes travelling back to the picture, specifically a young Grell, before darting over her in her dress, eyebrow raising slightly, though Grell couldn't say what at. Maybe it was how much she had changed? Or maybe it was how much better she looked now?

"For a daughter," Grell insisted, smiling as William's eyes widened in horror. "We could call her Poppy. Poppy and Scarlett-Rose and Ruby and Crimson, seeing as An is convinced that I'm carrying four children."

"Again, Grell, you have failed to mention any male names," William pointed out, eyebrow twitching. Grell just sighed. Call it whatever you liked – she liked a mother's instinct – but she was fairly certain that however many she was carrying, be it two or five, that she only had female children. "And again once more, I am not, under any circumstances, naming my children those ridiculous names. Honestly."

"Relax, Darling," Grell smiled, stretching out on the sofa and grinning at the man. "I don't really want to call them those names. I just thought I would start a conversation. And the look on your face was priceless, truly."

William just shook his head at this, frowning at Grell and telling her that she needed male names, no matter her mother's instinct, just in case. It wasn't that he wanted sons in the 'first batch' as Grell had said, though William hadn't liked the phrase, feeling as though it meant that they would be turning out as many as possible as quickly as possible, he was just concerned that Grell was so desperate for daughters that she would have nothing if a boy really did come along. Then again, knowing how much Grell liked babies, it was likely that she would love it no matter what.

"What about Kalonice?" Grell asked, looking up at William from under her lashes and smiling, though looking a little peaky. "That's a pretty name for a girl, isn't it?"

"I suppose I would not object to it," William allowed, pushing his glasses up his nose and turning back to the picture, before facing Grell again, clearly unsure about which was more uncomfortable to look at. "Nor would I object to names such as Isadore or-"

"Oberon?" Grell cut the black haired man off, excitement in her voice. "I just love Shakespeare's work, so you wouldn't deny me that, would you, Willy-darling."

"I am not your darling," William sighed, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket. "But I suppose that if you have your heart set upon calling a son of ours Oberon then I cannot stop you. Just know that I shall always call him Ron."

"Or Ronnie," Grell smiled, her face turning ever paler. She really did look like she was going to throw up, though it had become less common recently. Finally, able to stand it no longer, Grell rushed out the room, hands over her mouth as she raced to the bathroom, William hurrying worriedly after her.

By the time he caught up with her she was already hunched over the toilet, eyes squeezed shut as tears forced their way out of them, her glasses falling down her nose slowly as she retched, hair surrounding her face. Carefully, William reached around her until her hair was pulled away from her face, quickly slipping her glasses off in the fear that they would fall down the toilet if she left them on. It wasn't too long before she straightened up again, groaning because of the soreness in her muscles, caused by the retching. It always hurt her sides, stomach and back, and when she had been throwing up every day she had been very tempted to take painkillers, only stopping herself because she didn't want to make matters worse. She hadn't after she realised that she was pregnant because she wasn't entirely sure what to take that wouldn't damage the babies.

Leaning against William and pulling her glasses back on, Grell smiled a little, especially after she caught sight of William's worried expression. So he did care after all. That was nice.

"Don't worry so much, Darling," Grell purred, though her voice came out a little weaker than she meant for it to. Slowly, she got up next to William and then walked away from him, heading towards the front door, where he had presumably left his luggage. "It's just the morning sickness, after all. And it's going away now."

"Morning sickness?" William asked, easily keeping stride with Grell, even as she sped up a little, clearly trying to reach the door before anything else happened. "But it isn't morning."

"Do you have to take everything so literally?" Giggling a little, Grell found William's suitcases and smiled, seeing how neat and tidy they were, still seemingly new, despite how old they had to be. Clearly, William took care of everything he had, making Grell hope that one day he would take care of her with such love and devotion. "It's called morning sickness. That doesn't always mean that it happens in the morning."

William didn't bother to reply to that, instead picking his suitcases up and following after Grell, wondering where she was leading him. If she was taking him to her bedroom then he would not be pleased, but then again, she had promised that he would have a room of his own. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too far from Grell's, should she need him in the night of he need her to show him the way to the bathroom during the night. Honestly, her house was a labyrinth. Before long she stopped, turning to face William, before placing her hand on the doorknob and twisting it, letting the door swing open to reveal William's room.

The walls were a pale blue, giving William relief from the house that was entirely red. He was sure he was going to have to do something about that, or else he would have to spend a lot of time in his bedroom. Either way, he knew that so much red would cause him to get angry, as the colour red often made people feel that way, especially when there was no break from it. The bed was a four-poster, the frame carved from a dark wood with intricate patterns running up the posts and across the top, which was padded on the underside with red velvet. The curtains around the bed were red, too, along with the covers and pillows, though they did have white embroidery on them. He floor was a dark brown, a large red rug with a white border and centre feature sitting in the middle of it. There was a dark wooden wardrobe in the far corner, and the ceiling was plain white, a few red tapestries hanging on the walls.

Next to the bed was a small table with a cream cloth over it, a red shaded gas lamp sitting on it, lighting up further as Grell walked over to fiddle with it, still waiting for William's reaction. On the other side of the bed a small table and lamp matched it, though there was a dark, wooden, interestingly carved chest of draws with a few pictures on, one of Grell, one of Frieda, one of Jorge and one of Bianca. Candles rested in front of those, unlit, though the matches left on the side did allow for William to light them if he wanted, and an uncovered gas lamp lay behind the pictures. A mirror hung over one tapestry and a dark wooden desk with a mirror on it sat in front of the window, an orangey-coloured wooden chair tucked in at it. All in all, the room wasn't bad, though still a little too red for William's liking. Despite this, it was a lot more open and allowing of breath, which most of the rest of the rooms in Grell's house didn't have to offer.

"This is a lovely room, Grell," William admitted, making the redhead soar when she heard the compliment. "Though it appears to me that you cannot make anything without the colour red in it somehow."

"I can too!" Grell exclaimed, thinking of the bedrooms that she had made for Bianca, Frieda and Jorge. "Jorge's room is blue and white, with no red whatsoever, and An only has a touch of red on her carpet, the rest of the room a green and cream ensemble. Frieda has a silver and gold room, with a few red roses in vases in it. See? I can do things without the colour red."

"It is fine, Grell," William sighed, walking to his wardrobe and starting to hang up his clothes. "Are you likely to be sick again?"

"Not tonight," Grell smiled slightly, glad that the other man was inquiring about her health. "Would you like some help packing away?"

William nodded, allowing the redhead to help hang his clothes up and take his razor and soap out of his bag, setting then on the desk and deciding upon taking them down to the bathroom a little later, along with his toothpaste and brush. Before long, however, Grell had managed to find a small bag that William had brought with him, looking confused at it, before yanking it open and watching as stuffed animals poured out of it.

"What are these?" She asked, kneeling on the floor to pick them up, red dress pooling around her. "Why do you have stuffed animals in this bag?"

"Many people at the office decided to get you some animals for the children, especially when they heard that there may be five of them." William sounded a little uncomfortable, causing Grell to look up and spot his faint blush. "Even I have collected an animal. For the children."

"Oh, William!" Grell cried, rushing over to him and hugging him, not caring about how he stiffened under her touch, relaxing slightly into her hold only once he was sure that she wasn't trying to kill him through suffocation. "Which one did you get?"

Releasing him, she slipped back to the floor, kneeling down to inspect the little animals. There was a yellow and black patchwork mouse with glasses on, clearly made by a Reaper, and clearly sleeping. Next to that was a funny lion with glasses and green eyes, reminding her a little of Eric. After that came a cute little white bunny rabbit with glasses and a soft scythe in its hand, making Grell laugh and William's eyes soften a little. A brown hare with glasses and large feet also lay on the floor, along with a pink cat with glasses on and a red waistcoat, making Grell laugh as she held the toy to herself, thinking it absolutely perfect. In fact, they were all absolutely perfect.

"I understand that it is a little too early to care for our children's toys," William knelt down next to her, picking up the brown hare and fiddling with its ears a little, though still inspecting the other toys. "But the others in the office insisted, especially Slingby, Humphries and Knox, along with Payne."

Putting the cat down, Grell picked up the mouse and the lion, bringing them both to eye level and inspecting them. "So… who got the toys, then?"

"Slingby bought you the lion, as you might imagine, and Humphries bought you the rabbit. Payne thought you might like the cat best, and I suppose that that is true, and Knox bought the sleeping mouse… thing."

William seemed resentful towards calling it a mouse, and Grell wasn't surprised. The mouse didn't really look like a mouse except in shape, after all. No real mouse was a patchwork of yellow and brown, so it was likely that William was loathe to call the thing by what it was supposed to represent. Grell turned towards William and gently took the hare out of his hands, bringing it up to face height and smiling at it.

"And you brought the hare, Willy-darling?" Grell asked, leaning her head against the man's shoulder. He tensed at this, before relaxing as Grell leant into his side, not caring for the other man's discomfort. "That was so sweet of you." She poked the animal on the nose, red nails clinking against the glass buttons as she stroked its face. "You know, I can imagine you as a hare, Willy-darling. And a dog…"

"Well, I suppose that I could be a dog in this fantasy land of yours in which you have turned us into animals, but I cannot see myself as a hare. They have such large feet and twitching ears. I do not twitch nearly as much as those animals. You, however, would definitely be a cat."

"Oh, definitely," Grell nodded, smiling as she gathered all the animals up and stood, turning to William and allowing him to follow her if she wished. She didn't go far, just the to the room next to his, dropping the cute little animals onto her chaise lounge and turning on her lamps to a golden glow of the place, making it feel very cosy.

"Now, Darling," Grell smiled, walking towards William and backing him out of her room, before closing the door until only her face poked out, a loving glint in her eye. "While I love you very much, a woman still needs her privacy when she is getting ready for bed. I shall see you in the morning for breakfast, yes?"

Nodding, William turned on his heel and walked away, his heart speeding a little when he heard that Grell loved him, though he couldn't think why. Honestly, his body's reaction to some statements and actions of the redhead's truly confused him. Why did he act that way when he didn't want to? Surely his body wasn't betraying him and acting like he was in love without his head going along for the ride too?

 _Don't be silly_ , a voice in his head told him as he carried his bathroom products towards the bathroom. _You are definitely in love with the redhead nuisance, no matter how annoying he is_. You love him, and you're going to admit it to him very soon.

Snorting slightly at that idea, William shook his head and finished brushing his teeth, trailing his tongue across the minty freshness of his teeth and wondering at how different they felt than Grell's, face flushing as he flashed back to their night together when he had got her pregnant months beforehand. Her teeth had been odd and unusual, but a nice sensation, and he had enjoyed being with her, he had to admit, more than he had with anyone else he had slept with.

And her personality wasn't bad, he supposed, just a little full on. He could get used to it, in fact, he wasn't even sure that he was opposed to being around her in the first place. Despite her surprise hugs and her confessions of true love, she really was a very interesting person. Once again shaking his head as he finished buttoning up his pyjamas and slipped into bed, drawing the curtains shut around him, William sighed. Was he really in love with the redhead? No. Impossible. Wasn't it?

 **Author's Note: I'm really sorry this didn't have a specific point of view such as Grell or William's, but was kind of mixed up. I lost who I was talking about halfway through and just decided to merge the two together. Furthermore, I'm sorry if this chapter isn't the best. I've not been having much luck with my writing recently, especially not after being sick. I tried my best though, so I hope you enjoyed it. Finally, we get some Grelliam love next chapter! Yay! I love this pairing.**


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, just the characters Frieda Irwin, Bianca Shepard and Jorge Payne.

Difficult Love Chapter Eleven

Once again, Grell stood before Frieda and Bianca in her chemise, waiting for them to help her choose an outfit again. William was still out, at overtime, but he had agreed that they would have dinner out that night seeing as Grell had forgotten to buy anything to eat and William hadn't had the time over the last week. They had been together for four weeks, already, and Grell was starting to show quite a lot, often complaining about her massive stomach. Often, William had to point out that it wasn't massive at all for a pregnant woman, especially considering the fact that it might be carrying five. The doctors had said, at her check-up, though, that there was likely only two or three in her stomach, as it was only slightly larger than expected for that time of a single baby pregnancy. Grell still sulked.

In fact, she was even sulking as Frieda went to find her another dress, having thrown the last one away, claiming it was 'too frumpy' and spouting things like 'William will never love me if I dress that way'. Frieda had been tempted to point out that William had said he would never love her anyway, but she knew that it both wasn't true, and also didn't matter much. It was just the pregnancy mood-swings talking. Bianca, on the other hand, was desperately trying to console Grell.

"Oh, Honey," She kept saying, rubbing Grell's back and smiling a little when she put her hand on Grell's stomach. "It doesn't matter. Just think of those two to three little girls that are growing in there."

"I don't care," Grell complained, hand rubbing over her stomach to contradict that fact. "I want them out of me so I can stop eating like a pig." She faced her stomach. "You hear that? You're making mummy eat like a pig."

"Oh, calm down," Frieda chided, walking back into the room from the wardrobe set into the wall. "Will this one do?"

Having seen both signs of black and red on it, Grell folded her arms, pouting. "It's the same as last time." Frieda didn't move. "Why aren't you putting it back? It's the same as last time."

"No, it isn't." Bianca pointed out. "This one has solid black and solid red, it isn't chequered."

"Fine," Grell allowed, looking it over and poking it with one perfectly manicured finger of her hand. "Is it going to make me look fat?"

"Not fat, pregnant," Frieda explained patiently, forcing Grell to put her arms up over her head. "Like you are."

"Fine," Grell said again, allowing the material to be slipped on over her head. "I guess I can wear it then… But only if I don't look bad. William still hasn't said he loves me and it's been four weeks."

Bianca just rolled her eyes, not even bothering to comfort the other woman as they sat her down again, ready to tidy her hair up into an elegant updo. Grell had complained about this every time she had seen them, and it seemed that she wasn't going to stop, not until William said those three magic words to her. The funny thing was, she hadn't complained about it at all in William's presence, seeming happy enough just having him there.

Next they moved on to makeup, stealing her glasses and completing it quickly, leaving her plenty of time to spare should she decide that no, she did not like how she was dressed and wished to change again. Frieda was pretty sure that William should be pleased about having overtime, as they had already gone through the whole process twice.

"There, we're finished," Bianca said, steering Grell in the direction of a mirror. "What do you think?"

Grell stared into the mirror, for a minute, interested. Her bodice was red, with shiny red patterns of leaves running across it, the material opening up over the black underskirt, leaving the bustle and sides of the dress red, along with the trimming on the bottom of it. Her sleeves were tight until they reached her elbows, flaring out from there and leaving the material to flap around her wrists whenever she moved. Around her throat was a pretty, red-beaded choker with rubies set into it, a few hanging down onto the pale skin of her chest where the neckline of the gown allowed. Her glasses were on, but that didn't mean they covered up the pretty black eyeliner wings that she had, her eyelashes long and elegant. Her lips were beautiful, a bright red and plump and full, just as they always were.

Smiling, she blew a kiss in the mirror, ignoring the baby bump and grinning at what Jorge had always told her. 'A woman who can wear red lipstick casually and pull it off are the most dangerous kinds of people'. Technically, she supposed, she wasn't wearing the lipstick casually, but she was pulling it off, and that was what counted. Besides, she already knew she was dangerous, she didn't need the lipstick to prove it.

On her feet were a pair of leather ankle boots with small heels, leaving her a few inches smaller than William was likely to be, meaning that she would feel generally short today. Glad that her friends were going to be there with her, she adjusted her large red hat with the fake flowers on it, along with the sheer veil that hung off the back, the bright red of it serving as a small contrast towards the dark red of the dress. Turning, she clapped her hands, though the sound didn't come out quite as she had hoped, mostly due to the lace gloves that she was wearing. She looked perfect, so now she was going to help her friends with their outfits.

They had them in bags over in the corners, and she grinned happily, completely ready to use them as dolls. It was her favourite pastime, after all. First, she found Bianca's green gown and slipped it over the girl's head, before helping Frieda into the red and white gown she had gone for. Grell frowned a bit at the fact that there was also red on Frieda's gown, but then shrugged it off. It was only a little bit, after all. Humming, she styled their hair. Their hats went on next, and then their makeup, which Grell did with extra care, forcing them to look in the mirror.

Bianca stood in front of the mirror, a green gown on with darker green silk bows scattered over her skirt, a large, pine green swathe of material wrapped into her bustle. She had a pair of lace up leather boots on and brown leather gloves on her hands, the sleeves of her gown meeting them at the elbow, decorated with green glass jewels. On her head was a simple green hat with a white and pink striped bow, reminding Grell of the one she wore to work, save for the fact that it was red and white. Her hair had been pulled into many braids, each moving one after the other so it gave the hair a rippling effect, no strands escaping for once, due to Grell's brilliant work. She smiled at it, glad to know that all those wasted elastic bands had gone to use somewhere after she had taken her hair out. Grell had painted Bianca's lids with shimmering, pine green powder and lined them with black, before sticking false lashes on over her white ones, easily hiding the previous colour. The lips of the girl were left a pale pink-brown colour, and she looked stunning.

Next to her, Frieda was in white, the neckline of the gown lined with red diamonds that met in the middle and went straight down the bodice, only stopping when they met the white skirt. The front of it was plain white, but once you reached the sides and back it was striped with lines of red diamonds, a red bow sitting on one side, the strands of which fell to the knee. She was wearing dainty little slippers on her feet and had a darker pair of leather gloves on than Bianca. Her hat was red, decorated with a white bow, and she held a red parasol in her hand. Her hair was pulled into a simple, yet elegant bun by Grell, and her eyes were lined by thick black lines, no white on her face at all. Her cheeks were rosy pink and her lips were only glossed, not coloured. She was looking just as stunning as Bianca, and all three were ready to go to the restaurant.

Then, the doorbell rang, presumably William, ready to take them out to eat.

William stood on the other side of the door, feeling a little miffed that while he was still living with Grell, he didn't have a key to get into his house, ending up with Grell coming to his house at least once a week to find him after she had been out and left him with no method of getting in short of breaking the door. Despite this, though, William still felt closer to her, by a long way, than he had when he first moved in, and he was definitely ready to tell her about his feelings.

Well, he might be ready, anyway. He had decided that it was better sooner than later, but he wondered if Grell still wanted him to love her. She hadn't asked about him loving her since he had moved in, and she didn't act all clingy around him anymore. Often, during the evenings when they spent time together, she could be weepy, though William knew that was the pregnancy. Rather, he realised that when Bianca had stormed in one day yelling at him for making Grell cry when she was at such a delicate stage in development, before apologising a little later, telling him that she couldn't bear to see the redhead cry, but knew that it was something to do with the pregnancy.

She had also been yelling a lot, and snapping at him. Instead of saying goodnight, one night, she had bared her teeth at him and threatened to have him sleep on the couch, even though they didn't share a room. That had perplexed William, until he rose up the stairs that night and found Grell napping on the floor outside his room with chainsaw in hand. Gently, he had picked her up, carrying her into her room and tucking her in, having trouble finding her bed in the dark. She had cuddled into the pillows when he put her down, but she hadn't moved when he was carrying her. Normally, even when she had been asleep before, she would huddle into him. Quite frankly, it was worrying William. Maybe she just didn't want him anymore, and right when he had let himself fall in love too.

Jolting him out of his thoughts, the door opened, revealing three ladies, one dressed in red and white, one dressed in red and black and one dressed in green. The tiny one in green was patting the one in black and red's back, who appeared to be looking very nervous, though William didn't know why. He was going to make sure he checked everything in his room later, just to make sure she hadn't broken anything. The one in white and red next to her was looking at him like she always looked at him – with respect, but also with a face that said 'if you break her heart, I'll break you'. William pushed his glasses up and looked away.

"Good evening, Miss Shepard, Miss Irwin," he nodded to both, before turning to Grell. "Did Grell not mention that I had asked her out to dinner?"

"Well, yes," Grell looked as if William was particularly stupid. "That's why they're here. For dinner."

"Ah," William said, pushing his glasses up again and glancing at them, looking unsure as how to tell them something. "Well, I may not have made it clear, but I did just mean you, Grell. However, if Miss Irwin and Miss Shepard wish to come along, so long as they have money to pay for their own meals, they may."

"Well," Bianca said, causing the tall man to look down at her. She was only four foot eight inches tall, a true midget, and William could see that the size difference between his six foot and her miniscule stature was something that Grell found hilarious, her lips curling up into a smile as her eyes darted between the two of them. "I'm sure Riri and I can find ourselves another table. We had scheduled our first date to be tomorrow, but why wait? We can have two in two days, can we not?"

Grell turned between her two friends, looking at them sharply. William worried that she was going to explode, she looked so furious. Clearly, he was missing something, and he stood in the doorway in bewilderment, though he knew his face was remaining as calm and expressionless as ever.

" _What_?" she screeched, hands flying to her hips and scowl growing on her face. William thought she looked rather comical in the moment, but didn't tell her, worried that she would try to kill him. She had been doing a lot of that recently, especially at work when she came across a task that she didn't want to find herself with. "How long have you been a couple, exactly? Why haven't you told me yet?"

"We did," Frieda's tone was sharp, though the love for her friend was clear in her eyes. "You were just too busy bitching and whining about how fat you are."

"Shut up," Grell whined, placing her hands on her stomach and frowning at the silver haired woman. "I know how fat I'm getting. I don't need you to remind me."

"Think happy thoughts, Grell," Bianca said, worried that Grell was going to go beserk again. She had earlier, and it wasn't pretty. Luckily, no one had very much liked the rose bush that she had destroyed in the park, though some mothers with their children looked a little worried, hurrying the little things along. There had even been some mumbling about how Grell would make a terrible parent. That had not ended well for a tree in the area, and Jorge had been called in to help calm the redhead down, working almost instantly by repeating the names she had suggested for a baby the night before. "Isadore, Oberon, Kalonice and such like that?"

"Yes," Grell agreed, calming down, though William wasn't so calm. Grell really thought that she was getting fat? She was a pregnant mother. Of course she was putting on weight. He was going to have to rectify her views over the course of the night, along with getting what was on his chest off of it, too. "Isadore, Oberon, Kalonice, Isolabella, Scarlett-Rose, Ruby, Crimson and Poppy."

"Grell," William sighed, pushing his glasses up once more, before stepping out of the way of the door so that the fancily dressed ladies could file past him, Grell leaving last. "I have told you once, I have told you a million times. No child of mine shall be named 'Poppy'."

"That means you'll think about Crimson, Scarlett-Rose and Ruby?" Grell asked, excitement dancing in her eyes as they set off down the street, not having far to walk as they were going to the same restaurant as before.

"No," William replied, pushing his glasses up and glancing back to see Frieda and Bianca happily ignoring Grell and him, lost in their own little world. "I still refuse to name a child of mine Scarlett-Rose, Ruby or Crimson." His face was stony when he said the names, as if just saying them caused him great pain. "I have made allowances for names such as 'Daire', but only because of the spelling, and 'Raven', should there be a boy with hair like mine, though I believe that the brightness of your hair may be more likely to shine through on the babies."

"Nocturne?" Grell asked, rubbing her stomach and smiling down at it, wondering just how many she had. Two or three? It was a mystery to her, but she loved them all the same. "Oh. Or maybe Sullen?"

"Sullen?" Confusion registered in William's voice. "Is that not an adjective?"

"Well, yes," Grell admitted, tapping her fingers together, before tossing her head and smiling up at him. "But I figure that if we have a son that turns out like you, we're going to want to be able to give it a name that matches it, no?"

"I am not Sullen, Grell."

"You are too," Grell pouted, before taking William's arm and linking it with her own. "And everybody knows it, too."

William just shook his head, thankful when he saw the restaurant. It was a pretty little building, lights glowing from the outside, even in the darkening twilight. The whole place screamed wealth, but it really wasn't that expensive at all, having many middle class guests. Gladly, William opened the door, allowing the red menace to go in before him, and then the two politely talking ladies. Once done, William took one last breath of the cool evening air and followed them in, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Grell had been led to a table for two and was sitting by the window, waving at William, and Frieda and Bianca were sitting across the room, talking still, candlelight thrown onto both their faces from the candelabras between them. Ignoring the two, William walked over to Grell, nodding to a waiter as he came over, offering them wine. When Grell declined he looked a little shocked, before noticing the bump in her stomach and smiling, saying he would bring out their finest juices instead. Clearly, the waiter knew Grell fairly well, but hadn't been there the time they had eaten before. Throwing one last glance towards William, a questioning gleam in his eyes, as if he didn't quite believe that the beautiful red lady could have found herself a man somewhere, he walked off, William having accepted the wine.

"How about Julianna?" Grell asked, the minute the waiter had left, causing William to turn back to her. "That's not too odd for you, is it?"

"Julianna is fine," William agreed, opening the menu and looking it over, quickly focusing his choices between the lasagne and the meatballs and spaghetti. "Though I must say I thought you would prefer the name Juliet."

"Oh, Honey, that is just so old," Grell replied, smiling as she informed him that the meatballs and spaghetti were just to _die_ for here. In fact, she was having the very same dish, so William agreed to try them. "I prefer names that no one would have thought of before. I want unique children, with pretty names that will be adorable and perfect in every way."

"Pretty names? Such as?" William raised an eyebrow, not expecting the redhead to be able to list names that she liked. However, she replied that she could give him almost an entire alphabet of both boys and girls names that she liked, and then endeavoured to try, starting on the girl's names.

"Fine, let's see," Grell said, pursing her lips and tapping them with a lace-gloved finger. "There's Adrienne, which means dark lady from the sea, Bijou, which means jewel…"

"You know all these names and their meanings?" William asked, impressed despite himself. The waiter came over then, smiling and talking cheekily with Grell, who didn't seem to notice. But William did, and he found himself disliking the waiter for flirting with Grell. He had just realised he loved her himself. He didn't want to lose her to a _waiter_ , no less. "That's rather impressive. But then again, I suppose this is you."

"Yes, William," Grell agreed, thanking the waiter for the drink and asking for two plates of spaghetti with meatballs, before turning back to William and smiling again. "Now, do be quiet. Then for 'C' we have Celosia, which means burning flame, and I do so love Danika, which means morning star."

She sipped at the apple juice in front of her and hummed when it tasted nice and sweet against her tongue, closing her eyes in pleasure. "I love Edana for the letter E. It mean's little fiery one, and Faline for F, which means catlike."

She went on like this for a while, giving the names Gwendolyn (white-browed maid), Hesperia (the evening star), Iolana (soaring like a hawk), Julianna (young), Kala (Black), Lethia (sweet oblivion), Musette (child of the muses), Naida (water nymph), Orenda (magic power), Persephone (she who lightens the darkness), Qadira (powerful), Renita (rebel), Seiran (sparkling), Thora (thunder), Ulva (she-wolf), Vanita (desired), Wanette (the pale one), Xena (welcoming), Ysabelle (consecrated to God) and Zakira (remembrance).

Feeling a little overwhelmed, William sat and stared at Grell for a short while, before shaking his head and asking her not to give him the entire list for the boys, just a few. Besides, he pointed out, thanking the waiter as he set the plate of steaming food down in front of him, the wonderful aroma of spices and flavours reaching up to William and making him rather hungry, if Grell thought she was carrying only girls, then why did they need so many girl's names?

Grell laughed daintily behind her hand before having her plate set down before her.

"Thank you, Urien," Grell turned to the waiter and smiled slightly, before turning back to William. "Well, I think that there are a few boy names that you will like. Raphael, for example, which means God has healed. Or there's Martel, which means hammer of war, but which is a nice name no matter the meaning." She picked up her fork and started twirling the spaghetti around it, ready to put it into her mouth. "But let's stop talking about names and eat instead. I'm starving. Although… It might actually be these little terrors in here."

Gesturing to her stomach before eating and closing her eyes in happiness at the flavours, Grell stopped talking abruptly. Soon after, William followed suit, enjoying the taste of the spaghetti as the flavours of the sauce burst on his tongue, coriander and tomatoes and many other spices bursting forth. He, however, did not close his eyes. Instead, he watched Grell, noticing how her eyeliner highlighted the shape of her eyes and made them stand out more, and how her lipstick framed her pearly white fang-like teeth perfectly. Her hair was beautiful, tied back nicely with many different braids and strands mixed with each other. William wondered just how long it took to create, before realising that with the two people who actually did it, it probably wasn't that long at all. The few strands that framed her face, however, were a very Grell touch, and William couldn't help but feel his lips twitch up into one of the tiniest smiles known to man. Grell, however, had looked up, just in time to notice it.

"Did you just-" she asked, pointing her fork at him and crinkling her eyebrows in a cute manner, making William's lip twitch in a smile once again. "You did! You just smiled. Wow… that's got to be the first time I've ever seen you do that, William."

"I'm sure I will smile more, Grell," William pointed out, before eating some more of his food, trying to get away from the awkward topic of conversation that was his emotions and how they played out on his face, which was mostly 'not at all'.

"Humph," Grell didn't look convinced, but she went back to eating food just the same as he had. "Just so you know, no matter how much you smile, I will still be naming any particularly miserable son of yours 'Sullen'."

"Do what you like, Grell," William replied dryly, easily scraping up the last dregs of pasta on his plate and putting them in his mouth, swallowing before he spoke again. "You always do."

Grell's face appeared to crumple, and William wondered what he had said this time to upset her. Eyebrows creased, Grell stabbed the last of the meatballs and stuck it in her mouth, chewing ferociously before replying.

"What," Grell asked, sipping her juice and then slamming it down onto the table, narrowly missing spilling any of the liquid. Calmly, though cautiously, William took a sip of the wine, before setting the golden liquid back on the table. "Is that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"Nothing." William assured her, confused, but Grell appeared to think he was lying.

"If you have something to say to me, William, then just say it. I am in no mood for your lectures." Grell sat back in her chair, arms folded. "I knew there was a reason you brought me out alone tonight. You wanted to talk to me about something. But before you tell me what I've done wrong now." She leaned forwards, whispering her next statement across the table as if it were a secret. "You should first know that I don't care."

"I don't know about that," William replied, sipping once more at his wine and frowning as Grell raised an eyebrow at him. "I think that you may wish to hear what I have to say."

Grell muttered something that sounded like 'unlikely' on the other side of the table, whilst William wondered to himself how he could have made such a fatal, yet confusing mistake. He honestly wasn't sure what he had done, but they had gone from pleasantly discussing names to Grell sulking about him always having a go at her. And whilst this was true in the office, he rarely ever had stern words with Grell at her house, knowing that then was the time for relaxing.

While William was looking at Grell over the table and she was glaring back, him not realising that the emotionless look on his face that he usually had looked rather like a glare to Grell, Urien came back over, ready to take the plates away. Seeing how Grell was glaring at William, and how he was glaring back, he made a good attempt at catching Grell's attention and flirting with the woman again, having noticed the fact that she wasn't wearing a ring on her finger. Somehow, he had come to the conclusion that Grell was a high end prostitute that was only pregnant because of a customer and would probably put the children out on the streets after they were born.

"Hey, Sweetie," He grinned at her, placing his hand on her shoulder and leaning down and around her to take the plates away from her. "Are you still willin' to see me after this little one is out, like we did before."

"Urien," Grell huffed, looking uncomfortable within his arms, but seeing as she had had her arms folded when he had embraced her, unable to do anything. "I slept with you once, a year and a half ago, and no, I am not going to do it again. I was bored, at the time, and heartbroken. Now go away."

"Oh, don't be like that, Sweetheart," he leered, leaning down and ignoring the furious look on William's face. "I can pay you lots of money, if that's what you want."

Grell looked like she was about to be sick, having been called a prostitute straight up to his face. Her eyes met William's across the table, but jumped back down when she saw the furious look on his face. She probably thought that he was furious because she had once slept with someone that wasn't him, but instead, he was furious because of Urien's treatment of her.

"How dare you," he started, stopping when he saw Grell wince, but starting again when she closed her eyes, as if braced for whatever it was that William was going to say to her. "How dare you compare the mother of my children to a common prostitute," William said, before thinking about his wording and changing it a little, "or to any prostitute, for that matter. She is the mother of my children, and I would thank you, kindly, if you would take your hands off of her, sir."

Grell's eyes had flown wide at his speech, connecting with William's over the other man's arms, before she blushed a little, looking down again, though not looking nearly as unhappy, just uncomfortable at her situation.

"And if I don'?" Urien asked, looking smug, as if he had William beaten, though William knew he didn't. "What are you gonna to do 'bout it? She's slept with me too, ya know. Probably slept with 'alf the men in the street she lives in… in the side of London she lives in. No wedding ring, see? The one in here, mate? Probably not even yours. What are you going to do, huh? Still going to help her now?"

"No," Grell said, tears welling up in her eyes. It appeared that Urien was doing everything he could to get rid of William, and in a way that would leave Grell scarred forever. If William left her, angry and annoyed, she wouldn't be able to recover. Not while carrying his children, nor after giving birth to them. "No, he's lying, William. It isn't true. These are yours. I promise."

"I believe you, Grell, though death knows I shouldn't." William replied, standing up and reaching over Grell, easily prying the other man's arms off of her once standing. "Though Mr – Mr Ross here doesn't appear to believe me, when I say that I am the father of the children. Do I seem dishonest to you, sir?"

"No, mate," Urien said, eyes taking in Grell's form hungrily again. "But I'm just tryin' to warn you nicely to stay off o' _my_ piece o' meat."

"As the person being objectified," Grell called, trying to settle the situation a little, though heaven knew that by the time the morning rose there would be a new death in the world. Urien Ross would die, walking home from his job in a back alley somewhere, realising that the 'prostitute' was really a Death God, and the Death God was very, very bored doing so much office work that she just had to devise a way to use her lovely scythe somehow, so she may have just broken the rules a little and snuck out, when no one was watching, to cut him up. "I object to the objectification. I mean 'piece of meat'? Really?"

Still glaring at Urien, William took Grell's lead and sat down, until Grell shot up from her seat, a punch landing in the middle of Urien's jaw as he flew back, hand outstretched and a shocked look on his face.

" _How dare you do that_?" Grell asked, walking over to him and kicking him. "Do not prod my stomach so hard like that. How dare you! You could have damaged by children."

"I just wanted to see if that really was your stomach," Urien said, hands up and blood trickling from his nose. "Seeing as you were a man, the last time I checked. How much have you had to drink, trying to make your stomach look as if you're pregnant?"

"Oh, go to hell," Grell cried, about to summon her death scythe when William stopped her by wrapping an arm around her, pulling her back a little ways. "I am pregnant and there's nothing you can do about it. The doctors' have confirmed it for me. So as I said, keep your damn hands to yourself."

"Or what?" Urien sneered at her, not seeming to understand that he was beaten. He was picking on a Shinigami. And not just any Shinigami, but a pregnant one. This was not going to end well. On the other side of the room, some security guards were advancing, William having spotted them but Grell not.

"Or I'll break them next time," Grell said pleasantly, smiling a creepy grin at the man across from her. "Got it?"

Having pulled the perfect grin to look like a psychopath, Grell managed to get Urien to shrink back a little, looking a little less sure of himself than he had before. Somewhat proud of Grell, William whispered into her ears, gesturing to the security guards and nudging Grell in the direction of the door, before leaving a few notes on the table that should cover the cost of the meal. Just as he was turning to leave, however, Urien spoke up.

"Sir," he said, looking slightly worried that William would become violent, too. When he didn't, instead just looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he relaxed. "Sir, tha' woman… man… thing. She ain't good for ya. She's going to go berserk one day and kill ya, and probably her children too. I would ge' away while ya still can."

"Sutcliff would never kill her own children," William replied, turning around and starting to walk away, throwing one last snatch of conversation over his shoulder. "Not when she's killed for children."

Outside, Grell was holding up a wall, looking slightly chilly in the chill night air. Looking up, she saw the stars above London and smiled a little, rubbing her stomach to soothe herself. She had been terrified, in the restaurant, that William had been going to turn on her and start distrusting her once again, but instead he had stuck by her. That made her so happy. Even if he didn't love her, she supposed, he still cared. That, she could fool herself for the time being, was enough.

The opening of the door next to her caught her attention, a figure slipping out looking moody. Then again, he always looked moody. William's head turned to face her and he dipped his head, before offering her his arm. Accepting it, she began to walk next to him, acting a little apologetically.

"I'm sorry I punched him," she murmured, looking off to the side as William glanced at her, finding it hard to see her face under the brim of her large hat. "It's just that he poked me rather hard in the belly, and that hurt."

"I understand Grell," William replied, hurrying across a cobbled street when a cab rounded the corner, horses trotting along at quite a fast pace. "Though I must admit, that was not exactly how I had the night planned to go."

"No," Grell admitted, moodily, remembering their conversation from before Urien and looking down again. "I suppose you didn't. You were going to tell me that I had done something wrong again, weren't you?"

"No, actually," William argued, his expression looking harsh under the yellow glow of a gas lamp in the street. Grell could see her house a short way up the street, and started rushing to reach it quickly. "I had something a little more important to talk to you about."

"Was it about the babies?" Curiosity sparked in Grell, and she slowed a little, relaxing to a more leisurely pace as she walked through the still, pretty night. It wasn't too cold, once they were moving, and it was a pretty street to walk down. "Because I'm all ears, if that's the case."

William didn't reply for some time, causing Grell to wonder what it was exactly William wanted. He looked a little nervous, for him, his eyebrows pulled slightly closer together than normal and his lips set into a straight, hard line. He looked ready to do something no ordinary man had the power to do, and even he himself was fearing it, knowing it should be impossible and not realising he was a Death God. Cautiously, Grell rubbed the part of his arm that he could reach, hoping to calm him a little.

"Do you remember when you asked me if I would say 'I love you', back when I got you pregnant?" He asked, making Grell's heartbeat quicken nervously. He was either about to say something very good or very bad, she knew, but she didn't know which.

"Of course I do," Grell pushed, desperate to hear more, though William seemed more inclined to stop talking. "Why? What do you have to say?"

"I think I may have been a bit harsh on you when I said that you were a mistake, that night." William said, a faint colouring coming to his cheeks. If you didn't know what to look for, if you didn't know what the tiniest changes in the way his face was set out meant, then you would have missed it, Grell knew, but she could see it. Holding her breath in anticipation, Grell waited for the rest of what William had to say.

"I don't think that you are a mistake, anymore, Grell." William told her, tensing slightly, as if waiting for Grell to throw herself at him. She didn't, restraining herself because she was still confused and not entirely sure as to what William was getting it. "I think that it was… that is, I mean to say."

"William," Grell asked sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes at him, "Would you please hurry up and spit out whatever it is you're mangling with your words, there, William, Darling?"

"I am trying." William said, sounding a little huffy. "Fine. Grell Sutcliff, I love you. That is what I am trying to say."

Grell felt her heart stop.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, Yana Toboso does. I only own this particular story line.

Difficult Love Chapter Twelve

"I'm sorry," Grell choked out, still partially unable to believe her own ears. Had William just said what she thought he had? "I don't think I quite caught that."

"I said," William replied, patiently. "I love you."

"Yes," Grell said, pointing a shaking finger at William. Still connected by their linked arms, Grell had caused both to stop in the street, and she was currently pointing a trembling finger at William. "But I think I might have heard you wrong again."

"You haven't, Grell," William informed her, looking anything but comfortable with the situation. In fact, he looked even paler than normal, and his normal shade of pale wasn't very healthy looking to begin with.

"I thought I might have," Grell replied again, before finally snapping out if it on the outside, though she was still screaming internally. Inside her, somewhere, there were mini devil Grells that operated her brain, running around, probably trying to put out the fires that William's words had caused in there. Then again, with the pleading eyes that William was giving her, it seemed likely that his mini William… well, she wasn't entirely sure if they would be devils or angels, but the frowny things in his head, they were probably trying to say that it was a friendly invasion of the mind that they had just pulled. She narrowed her eyes, taking in the colour of his skin. "Are you sick, William?"

"Why would you think that, Grell?" he asked, looking terribly confused himself. "I thought you would be pleased with the fact that I have learnt to love you."

"Oh, I will be," Grell assured him, patting his arm and dragging him along, a small grin pulling at the corner of her lips. "Just as soon as I work out what you really said. I'm still not convinced I heard you correctly. In a minute, I'm going to realise that you were telling me to do my paperwork or something silly like that, and I'm going to realise this is all a dream, Darling, brought on by ridiculous amounts of paperwork that I don't want to do."

"I can assure you that this is not a dream," William returned, stopping in front of the door and waiting for Grell to pull the keys out of one of the folds of her dress. There were always pockets on her dress somewhere, and William had learnt that she took her mixing fashion with practicality very seriously, even if it didn't look like it. "I believe I would not have told you in such a useless way had it been one."

"No," Grell thought aloud, "No, you definitely come out with some pretty odd stuff when I'm dreaming, Willy-darling. Why didn't you use your key, anyway?"

"You have failed to give me a key," Replied William, looking very serious, which made Grell laugh, before realising that William was being serious, not just looking so. She had been sure that she had left a key on the side, right by the door, for him to pick up when he left in the mornings. She had never checked to see if it was there when she got back, expecting it to be gone, so had walked right by it each day, it seemed.

William had never touched the key, she learned. He had always just assumed it was hers, seeing as she always left the house later than him in the mornings, and arrived home earlier than him in the evenings. Realisation dawned on her. All those times she had gone to make a visit to William's house because the silly man wasn't in her house wasn't because he was sick of the place, although he may very well be, but because he didn't realise the key was his. Grell slapped herself on the forehead, just to see if she could work out who the stupider one was.

"This key," she said, picking it up and handing it to him, "is yours. I may have forgot to say. I was very excited that you were coming to stay in the first place, and certainly much too excited to remember to _tell_ you about a key."

William accepted it without question, watching as Grell removed her hat and placed it on the deep windowsill at the bottom of the stairs, balancing it precariously upon one of the decorative bottles that stood there. After doing that, she started fiddling with her hair, William walking over to the hat she had balanced on a bottle and moving it over to the hat stand between the two disappointingly rickety chairs and taking his own off his head, letting the thing hang crookedly next to her own. She smiled at that, thinking about how neat and tidy he always had to be, and that for him, everything had its proper place. She wondered if he considered her proper place to be next to him.

It was very hard to find a way to undo her hair, not knowing precisely how many pins Bianca had used to keep it in place, or how many braids Frieda had put in it, along with how many twists and intricate little details. Huffing slightly, knowing that she had just made a mess of it, Grell gave up and sank into one of the chairs, ignoring the menacing creak that it gave off. William, still standing by the hat stand, moved to stand behind her head. Slowly, she heard his leather gloves being drawn off, before the black material of them dropped into her lap, his fingers working deftly in her hair and pulling out all of the pins and letting the hair fall down, but allowing the intermingled braids to remain. Grell had to admit, seeing herself in the reflection of the mirror in the adjacent room, that she did, indeed look pretty with her hair all mixed up as it was.

Just as William was about to sit down, however, Grell found herself sit up, hands flying to her mouth, before she took off, at a run, up the stairs. Quickly realising that the easiest way to climb the stairs in a dress was to hold the material around her legs, she hitched it up, aiming for the bathroom as William hurried behind, though probably looking much less of a klutz.

Finally, she reached the room, throwing herself at the toilet before she started retching, smiling in between retches as William pulled her hair back and stroked it, soothing her slightly. She squeezed her eyes shut again, keeping her hands to her glasses to prevent their falling off, and ignoring the tears that squeezed out of her eyes, hating the bile taste of sick in her mouth. A few minutes later, once done, she turned and leant against William, which she did every time after throwing up.

"Is that still happening?" William asked, despite clearly seeing that it was. Didn't Doctor Franc say that it would stop when you were four months along?"

"Four to five," Grell murmured, using the man to push herself up, blushing when she remembered earlier that day and his confession. Even though it hadn't been that long ago, it felt like years. They had spent the rest of their walk home in silence, and then had a relaxing half hour in the entry hall, so it was very likely that it would be noted as a long time ago for Grell, who liked to deal with things as they happened. "And it's becoming less regular."

"Well," William said, watching as Grell leant against the counter and brushed her teeth with a spare brush that she kept in there now. Relief ran through her when she got rid of the acidic taste of the sick in her mouth, instead replacing it with minty freshness. "That is something to look forward to."

"Yes," Grell agreed, spitting out the soap suds and removing her lace gloves, eager to clean the brush and leave the bathroom. The toilet flushed behind her, most likely because of William. She has forgotten to pull the chain when she had finished earlier. "Then I just have to worry about an aching back and ankles. What's not to love?"

"Don't do that," William replied, coming to stand behind her. Grell wished he would put his arms around her and hold her, hands on her stomach as he talked to her, but he didn't appear to be the sort of man to do those things. Either that, or he was unaware that it was allowed. "You love the babies, as do I."

"Of course I love the babies, William," Grell smiled, putting her toothbrush back in the holder and spinning to face him, instead of his reflection. Somehow, despite having been at a fight in a restaurant, walking back through the city streets, confessing his love, hurrying up the stairs and her being sick, he had managed to maintain a perfect appearance save for lack of gloves, which occurred due to his taking them off to untie her hair. "As much as I love you. It will be my own happy family."

"And as I said earlier," William rested a hand on her shoulder, leaning down until his face was more level with hers. "I love you too. And the babies, of course." He put a hand on her stomach, smiling at the bump that was stretching from where there once had been a perfectly flat and toned expanse of skin. "You do believe that I love you, correct?"

"I know," Grell murmured, leaning her head against William's shoulder, before drawing back and leading them down to the evening room, only stopping to pick up William's discarded gloves that had fallen out of her lap earlier, on the way. She stuck them on pegs of the hat stand and laughed a little, William sighing as he descended the stairs a little while later than her and paused halfway down, watching what she was doing. Clearly, Grell decided, William didn't find the fact that the hat stand had hands now amusing.

"I do believe you," she continued, waiting for William before setting off towards the evening room, sighing when she turned to sit on the sofa, only to find that William had taken his gloves off the hat stand and was laying them on the bookshelves that ran all the way around the lower half of the room instead.

He also readjusted a picture frame so it didn't turn inwards so much as it had before, taking his own sweet time in Grell's opinion. Didn't he know what he was doing to her? Or maybe he did, and was doing it on purpose. To be honest, Grell couldn't quite tell with William. Waiting patiently, Grell kept to one half of the sofa, sinking into the red material. William advanced, and she half expected him to sit in the same arm chair that he always sat in, but he obliged her, sitting on the other half of the sofa, and not even complaining when she threw herself against him, head resting on his chest, along with one hand, while the other rested on her stomach.

Before long, William himself linked his fingers with the fingers of the hand she had against her stomach, causing Grell to smile as their linked hands rested together on her stomach. Slowly, she kicked her legs up under her, leaning further into the muscular man, and smiling when he pulled her just a tiny bit closer, though stopped almost immediately, as if realising what he was doing.

"I must say," he said, pushing his glasses up with his free hand. "You took rather a lot less persuading than I expected to believe that I loved you. I was expecting a hit, or at least a bit of traditional Grell anger when I confessed."

"Who says I won't get angry or hit you?" Grell teased, smiling up at him sweetly. "But face it, _Darling_ , you made it fairly obvious all night."

William raised an eyebrow.

"Well, first you protected me against Urien, who I always thought was a nice guy, but I guess he isn't. And then when you confess, you do so with no provocation of me, save for me telling you to spit out what it was you were trying to say, because darling, you really were making a pig's ear of it."

"Excuse me for that," William said, eyes focused on Grell's, who found herself captivated by his. Despite knowing that his eyes were just the same as the rest of the Shinigami, save for their shape, Grell thought that he really did have interesting eyes. She wondered if he thought her eyes were the same. "It will not happen again, I assure you."

"But, _Willy_ ," Grell cried, pushing herself away from William's chest and looking him in the eye, face to face. "It was so cute, and just like I always _dreamed_ it would be."

"I am aware of this," William replied, relaxing as Grell settled back down next to the other man and smiled against his chest, listening to his beating heart. It was beating quite fast, and Grell wondered if it was because of her. She liked to think it was. "However, it was flawed, and it shall not happen again. Honestly."

"Humph, you're no fun." Grell complained, frowning and poking him in the chest, though looking up at him with playful eyes. "But back to the facts. I hadn't talked about loving you for weeks and weeks, hoping that if I left you alone you would have space to fall for me or something of the sort, and I suppose that it worked, but my reasoning is, why would you remind me of something that you clearly didn't like before, unless you were telling the truth now."

"If I was going to be wholly honest," William said, tersely. "Then I would have to say that I wasn't being truthful with you back then. I have been having doubts about my dislike for you as far back as when you told Mr Slingby, Mr Humphries and Mr Knox that I was only helping you because you I didn't want to be seen as 'the lowest of the low' as you said."

This did earn him a slap. Grell pulled back from him, William looking down at her in confusion, before finding his head facing a whole different direction, Grell growling at him from where she had been before, kneeling on the sofa.

"You _animal_ ," she growled, barely even wincing at the pain that had to be lancing through her hand if William's cheek was anything to go by. Especially after he saw the crescents of blood on her nails that corresponded with the amount of pin pricks of pain were throbbing on his cheek. Somehow, Grell had managed to curl her fingers in slightly, so her slap cut holes in his cheeks.

Sitting back, she admired her handiwork, feeling only a small twinge of regret when she saw the red mark on his face. He had deserved it, though, she had decided. William was the one that had been lying to her for five weeks. William was the one who was making her feel so alone and useless, not her. William was the one who had had the power to change everything in his hands, truthfully had it, not just could have hat it, and he had held back. Fury bubbled inside, but also love.

Grell couldn't deny the love she felt flowing through her, too. It was there, mostly to make her feel bad about hitting him, she concluded, but it was nice. Love was what was making her heart flutter when she heard that William had been feeling the same way she had for longer than she thought. Flutters in her heart were what made her reach out and caress William's other cheek, which he allowed, albeit warily. Caresses of his cheek were what made her crawl closer to him, only to lower her lips to his when he didn't pull away, and Grell smiled against his lips.

Keeping her lips only a gentle pressure on William's, she placed gentle, butterfly kisses to his lips, whispering that she was sorry for cutting his face between them, and that it was his own fault anyway because he was a liar, and he got what he deserved. Finally, clearly frustrated, William reached up and pulled Grell's head closer to his, making her heart soar.

Finally, the kiss she was sharing with William felt as she had heard from all those other people. Her heart soared and the rest of the world fell away, the feeling of being loved engulfing her as she lost herself against his lips, not even using tongue, just moving their lips gently against each other's. After a while though, Grell lost in the heady scent of William and William lost in the equally heady scent of cinnamon that surrounded Grell wherever she went nowadays, the two of them opened their mouths, allowing their tongues to twine together and dance in Grell's mouth, William running his tongue over Grell's teeth and humming contentedly.

Smiling against his lips, hand buried in the other man's hair, Grell thought that William was the first person who had ever been happy to feel her teeth, instead of shocked. Before Grell was ready, not prepared to give up the feeling of being somebody's everything, William pulled away, resting his forehead against Grell's as their glasses clicked, Grell smiling and stroking his face, before pushing his glasses up for him, knowing how bad his eyesight was.

She had stolen his glasses as a joke, once, leaving her own in his place, but she had had to take them back fairly quickly, as everything was odd and distorted looking from behind the glasses, and she kept walking into walls. Thinking about it now, it was a lot funnier than she would care to admit to him and she giggled a little.

"What is it, Grell?" William questioned, pulling her down a little way and tucking her head beneath his chin. Whining at the movement, knowing it signified no more kissing, Grell looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, but William just shook his head.

"Nothing much," she promised, smiling as William ran a hand through her hair, clearly not realising he was doing it, because he stopped a few minutes later, only encouraged to restart when Grell told him that she liked the feeling. "I was just thinking about the time that I stole your glasses. It was very funny."

"I do not see it quite as you do, I'm afraid." William replied, clearly not realising he had given Grell brilliant ammunition for her teasing.

"Oh, I _know_ you don't see things as I do, William," Grell's teeth showed, and she hummed when William lifted her chin up. Her eyebrows creased when he ran a finger over her teeth, before taking it back out of her mouth and resting her head against him for a second. What was that about, exactly? Shaking it off, she decided to continue. "I think I screamed in poor Alan's face when I first saw him from behind your glasses. It was Ronnie's fault. You shouldn't have let him tell the story about how you talked to a wall while lecturing him."

"I didn't know that he was telling the story, though I suppose I should have." One of William's hands was fiddling with a braid that was still left in Grell's hair, while his other one was resting on her stomach once more. Grell's hands joined it. "It is not my fault that you cannot handle the sight of a slightly warped human being."

" _Slightly_?" Grell asked, flabbergasted. Alan had truly looked like a swirling alien from behind those lenses. "William, I don't think you realise how bad your sight truly is."

"Maybe not compared to everyone else's," William allowed, settling further into the sofa. "But I do believe that I realise that I can see barely a thing without my glasses. However, I can always tell when I am looking at you."

"Oh, _William_ ," Grell cried, smiling as she resettled herself, studying the shadows on the walls that were thrown there by the gas lamps. "Is it because you love me so?"

"It is because you are the fuzzy red patch in my vision."

Grell didn't have an argument for that, so she just shrugged, before pointing out that there were some benefits to wearing colours all the time, such as the one William had just given. William just replied with a hope that his children weren't quite as obsessed with the colour red as their mother was.

Grell's hands started to stroke her stomach as she wondered what it would be like to be a mother. Would her children look more like William or her? She hoped that they got his teeth, as hers had always annoyed other people, especially during kissing, though she had the sinking suspicion that they would have teeth as sharp as hers. Their eyes, or course, would be green, but would they have black or red hair, or maybe even a mixture of the two colours, becoming brown. Maybe, though Grell doubted the likelihood, they would have hair mixtures, such as red hair on one side of their head and black hair on the other side. Babies born to male Reapers were rare after all. Maybe they would look different, too.

Soon, she realised, she and William were going to have to start making up a nursery and buying five little cots and buying bottles and clothes and items like that, and Grell smiled to think of how odd it would be. She had always walked past shops selling baby items without ever going inside, wishing to herself that she could have a baby of her own, and one day soon she would be walking into a baby shop and _buying_ things for her _own_ children. It was such a joyful thought that she couldn't help but pull William a little bit closer to her.

"I've always wanted to be a mother, you know," Grell murmured, breaking the relaxing silence that had lain over the room. "And now I can be. Isn't it wonderful?"

Grell reached up with one hand, William's hand held in hers, and kissed his fingers, heart fluttering as her eyes met his. She smiled slightly, before placing his hand back on her stomach and leaning against him once more, warm and secure tucked into his body the way she was, just as she had always wanted to be with him. Another wave of joy washed over her, and she tried to contain an outburst of joy. William often got annoyed at her girly squeals when something overly brilliant happened to her, after all.

"I never particularly thought about being a father," William admitted, fingers rubbing small circles on Grell's stomach as she tensed a little, despite knowing perfectly well that he was as happy about the pregnancy as she was. "But I look forward to the day when we have these two or three out of you, Princes or Princesses."

"Princesses, definitely," Grell whispered, patting her stomach and smiling. "But I think one might be like me. It just seems that, while I know she's a girl, she doesn't quite accept that, if you know what I mean?"

"I think it is a little early to be wondering whether our children are going to becoming crossdressers," William pointed out, without dashing Grell's dreams entirely, which she was grateful for. "Though I suppose living with the two of us is likely to make for some very confused children, whether it is about their gender or their personality."

"Are you implying that I am gender confused?" Grell asked menacingly, though there was no real bite behind her words. She prodded William in the chest again, before drawing spirals on his shirt with her nails. "I am not gender confused. I am a perfectly good woman, who was given the wrong body. That is all."

"What you think, then," William continued, ignoring Grell's menace. "Is that you think you are carrying a one or two girls, and a boy in a girl's body?"

"That, my dear William," Grell said, pulling the other man down to kiss her again, though it was just a quick brush of the lips. "Is exactly what I am saying."

"Fair enough," relaxed, William didn't bother to argue with Grell, though Grell had a feeling it had something more to do with how she blatantly ignored facts if they told her something she didn't like, and pretended that she hadn't heard things, than from being actually right. "If you want to believe that, whilst carrying two or three girls, whilst only having space in your womb for, at most, three, the size you have grown, according to Doctor Franc, you are also carrying two girls and a boy, I will not stop you."

" _What_?" Grell asked, confused. William's last sentence hadn't made much sense to her at all, and she wondered if he was very tired. He had been working overtime, she supposed, that day, before coming and arguing at a dinner and confessing his love, before untying her hair, helping her as she threw up and had a long kissing session with her earlier. After considering all that he had been doing, she realised that he should be tired. She would be.

Then again, considering the fact that she had done everything the same as him, save for swapping out overtime for getting ready to go out, along with punching a man in the face instead of arguing, you found that Grell also had a very tiring day. Yawning, she blinked at the wall as she wondered what time it was.

"Don't forget," she said, sleepily, wishing she had brought some Jaffa Cakes into the room. "There are going to be more than these few," she gestured to her belly, causing William to hum in agreement. "There are going to be thirteen. It's a good thing that we live forever. I don't think I could deal with thirteen at once."

"I doubt I could deal with more than five at once," William stated simply. "In fact, I think five is pushing it, but we're going to have to accept it."

"I quite agree, you know," Grell slowly rose to her feet, hand still connected with William's as she used her hand to cover up another yawn, eyes squeezed closed tightly. "But now, I think we should go to bed. I'm really tired, though I don't know about you, darling."

"I too am tired," William stated simply, allowing himself to be dragged up the stairs by the hand and deposited outside of his bedroom door.

Grell laughed at his surprised look, sticking her head out through her own and smiling at him.

"I may love you, Willy-darling," she said, smiling sweetly. "But we're still not married, so we really shouldn't be sharing a bedroom."

Maybe William would take that as a hint to what her dreams were about. Maybe he would take it as a sign that she didn't want to move too fast, or maybe he would take it as teasing. No matter what he took it as, Grell knew the truth. She was just not ready to give up half of her bed, not matter how much that she loved them. Rolling over in bed was one of her favourite things to do, loving the new, cool, crisp sheets on the side that you hadn't slept on after you warm the other side up too much. If William was there, that would go, and she was not ready for that just yet.

Humming to herself, quickly changing into a red nightgown, frowning at how it strained over her stomach, she climbed into bed, smiling widely. Her love and confessed his love for her, and she had finally had a fairy tale kiss, the kind that got your heart pumping and your knees weakening and your head spinning. The kind that left you dazed and wanting more and more and more, until you knew that you would be unable to ever kiss anybody else again. Closing her eyes, Grell rubbed her hands over her stomach, glad that her children would grow up in a happy, loving family.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Thank you to those who have left me with reviews. It's really nice to hear that people are reading and enjoying my story and that they think I'm doing a good job of it. I hope I continue to do so in later chapters, including this one ;). Thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, Yana Toboso does. I just own this plotline.

Difficult Love Chapter Thirteen

Four weeks later, and William and Grell had argued very little, though mainly because William had refused to rise to Grell's whining and moaning. He was going to be caring, even if she wasn't. Furthermore, he didn't want to stress her while she was carrying children. She was still whining because she was fat, half the time refusing to leave her room, just calling through the door that William wouldn't like to look at her, until William had pointed out that all pregnant women looked that way, and Grell had been a bit more accepting of the idea of a huge stomach.

Lying in bed, William smiled slightly at the weeks he had spent with Grell. Their first kiss, the day he had told her he loved her, had been brilliant. He had finally been able to feel Grell's teeth again, loving their uniqueness, though Grell had told him later that people had always found them creepy and odd before him, before pulling him down for another kiss.

The house was starting to smell of cinnamon all the time, and sometimes it was for a good reason. Grell had taken to baking cinnamon and raison cupcakes every other night, finishing them all within two days. Sometimes, however, she made odd concoctions, forcing him to eat them. He shuddered at the thought of the cinnamon soup she had forced him to eat a few nights beforehand, until he had managed to escape by saying that he had to hurry back out for overtime, and had in fact just stopped by to make sure she was well. Instead of going to overtime when he left the house, he went to the shop down the road, buying and eating some overpriced sandwiches and relishing in the scent of the cinnamon-free air. He had also bought her some Jaffa Cakes as a peace offering, as they always seemed to calm her down.

Every time he looked, recently, there had been a new finished pack of Jaffa Cakes in the kitchen, and William understood why. Grell was eating for two to three more babies, not just herself, so whilst she was eating non-stop, she had barely gained any fat at all, all if it going to feed the children inside of her. William wondered, briefly, when they would start kicking. It was nearing month five, and he knew it was around the time that the babies were likely to start kicking. Somehow, William knew that Grell would freak out the first time. She could be very stupid without trying, sometimes. But after realising what it was, she was sure to be fascinated.

Babies were a great love of hers. He had seen her with a baby in the hospital once, looking after it because the mother couldn't at the time. Then, he had been furious, seeing as she was skipping work to look after a baby that the husband could have looked after, but now, looking back on it, he was glad she was so good with children. It was a relief to think that she would be a good mother, because he had little doubt in his mind that he would be a bad father.

He wasn't any good at playing games, and he didn't often smile, so it would make his children wonder what was wrong with their father. They would want him to play and he wouldn't be able to do it effectively. Grell had told him to loosen up and just go with it and see what happened, but he was certain that she would be better than him. She always was with that sort of thing. He didn't mind so much, though. The babies would be special, no matter their names – Grell was still set on Sullen, if there was a boy, though he hoped she was joking – and they would be his.

Grell had burst out laughing the night before, at dinner. Bewildered, he had stared at her, utterly astounded by her outburst, until, tears pouring down her face, she had told him of her vision of a miniature William, in a baby grow, supervising the building of a tower of bricks, because a miniature her could not do it correctly. Even William had felt his lips twitch at that, and even lying in the dark, thinking about it, he had to admit that it was funny.

Suddenly, a knock came at his door, jolting him out of his thoughts, and he rolled over, before clambering out of bed and gliding towards it. On the other side was Grell, hair tied in a messy braid and a warm smile on her face, eyes looking sleepy and glasses on crookedly. In the office, William knew, both he and Alan would be annoyed, but whilst she was wearing her short red nightgown – which was ridiculously short now she had to stretch it over her stomach – and a robe that was left to flow openly, she looked rather cute. William would rather die than admit it out loud.

"Willy-darling," she said, leaning forward so that her head was against his chest. "I missed you."

Wrapping her arms around his chest, she huddled closer to him, and William sighed. She did this sometimes, and William got the feeling that it was just to make sure that he hadn't gone away while she had been gone. Evidently, she had just returned home and got changed, for if she had been home sooner, he would have known about it. It had been his day off, his only day off in a while, and he had spent it relaxing and tidying a little around the house, while Grell had clearly been served overtime by the temporary supervisor.

"Mr Kelly decided that it was a good idea to give me overtime, though I don't know why. All I did was take a nap in the middle of the day, _on my lunchbreak_. But he didn't believe that it was my lunchbreak."

"How long did you decide your lunch break was?" William asked, running his hands through Grell's hair as she fiddled with the hair at the nape of his neck, making shivers run through him. Gently, he led her to sit on the end of his bed, before taking a seat next to her. "If you took more than an hour then I'm sure he had good reason."

"I didn't," Grell argued, a whining tone in her voice. She pulled away from William to study him for a minute, a hurt look in her eyes, and William hoped that she wasn't offended by him. Often, when offended, she wouldn't talk to him or touch him, and it was rather frustrating. "I only slept for half an hour. Harry Kelly has never liked me. _Ever_."

"Alright, Grell," William nodded, pulling her back to him slightly, before running her hair through his fingers. "I will talk to him tomorrow."

"Good," she nodded, looking satisfied, before laying down on the bed and dragging him up next to her. Sometimes her strength still astounded him, even though he had known it from the very beginning of their meetings, having been kicked into a chimney and crumbling it with the impact when they first met. Settling down, she ran her hands up his chest, before pulling herself closer and nestling her head on his shoulder. "I mean, I can't believe that man will give a _pregnant woman_ overtime."

William didn't say anything, knowing it was better to just let her have her rant. She was on a roll, saying how the man was an animal, and that his hair was ridiculous. _I mean, who has hair that shines purple in the right light? Honestly._ Smiling when he heard a phrase that he used a lot, William buried his nose in her hair and hummed, nodding along in all the right places and saying placating things whenever she paused for breath, only so that she could say more, it seemed.

"Are you even listening to me, Willy-darling?" Grell asked, pulling back slightly to look at his face. However, his eyes were closed at the time, so he received a none-too-gentle slap to the face that caused his eyes to fly wide. "How could you? Falling asleep at a time like this? It's so _rude_ , William."

Mildly annoyed at having received a slap, William frowned. "I wasn't sleeping. You were telling me about Mr Kelly and his hair, were you not?"

"I was," Grell allowed, eyebrows still pulled down in frustration. "But what was my exact wording. Can you tell me that? I bet you can't."

"'I mean, who has hair that shines purple in the right light? Honestly.'" He mimicked, causing Grell's face to soften a little, and for her to reach up and rub at the red mark on his cheek. Keeping his eyes wide, for fear of another slap, William settled back down. "Though I don't know what that has to do with why he has given you overtime."

"It's a travesty," Grell continued, looking even more upset than before. "I was just merrily snoozing away, tired out because of these little ones-" she gestured moodily to her stomach, and William reached down to stroke it, causing her to hum a little. "And then bam! Apparently I'm not even allowed to sleep _in my own time_. Even Alan, perfect Alan, thought that it was unfair. I'm a pregnant woman, after all."

Angrily, she continued, William keeping his ears trained on everything she said, just in case she asked him to repeat anything again.

"And do you know what he said to me? Do you? After I told him he was rude to make a pregnant woman work so," Grell asked, looking very annoyed and picking at a bow on her short gown. Unsure as to how he was supposed to know what the man had said, William studied the figure next to him instead. Longing caught at William to run a hand up her legs which were on display. He wanted to make her shiver, but he knew that while she was ranting, his touches would not be welcome. Instead, he settled for running his hands soothingly through her hair some more. "He told me that I was not a woman, and that if I was I would be a whore. And _then_ he told me that from what he had seen of me, he wouldn't be surprised if I was carrying demon offspring, and he didn't care to make my pregnancy easier because of it."

Tears were pricking in her eyes then, and her voice was becoming thick, and higher with every word she said. No, William admitted in his mind, she was not a woman, but that was not a reason to say it to her face. Admittedly, he had done before he had fallen in love, but he had really done it, he realised, to disguise his feelings for her. Now, he would call her a woman if it made her happy, which it did.

Furthermore, he was outraged that someone had the audacity to tell Grell, to her face, that she would be a whore, or even was one. How they could say something to someone so unsure of herself on the inside. He had known that Harry Kelly didn't much care for Grell, but he hadn't realised that the man was so cruel to her when he wasn't around. Then again, he had never thought to ask her, before from lack of caring, and after because Harry Kelly had never come up in conversation.

Lastly, though he knew it was his fault, for he still refused to allow Grell to call him the father at work, purely because he didn't want interruptions to his working for congratulations and the likes, he was furious that the man had accused her of growing demons. And even so, if she were, no man should ever make a mother suffer the idea that their children may be in discomfort, even if it was through their own discomfort. William tightened his hold on Grell unconsciously, and gritted his teeth.

"Ow, _William_ ," Grell whined, wriggling a little and trying to loosen his grip. "That hurts."

She wriggled a bit more, and William finally realised what he was doing, loosening his grip and trying to discard the thoughts he was having. Clearly, though he was trying to hide it, the thoughts were playing across his face, because Grell sat up and studied him intently.

"What's wrong, Willy-darling? Are you alright?"

"I apologise, Grell," William replied, pushing his glasses up, even though he was lying down. "I was merely realising what extent the words I shall be having with Mr Kelly are."

"Oh," Grell looked a little miffed, for a second, before she leaned closer. "Do you mean you're as angry as I am? Because I was very offended when he said I wasn't a lady. I know I'm not in body, but I am in soul. And I try, I really try, to make myself a beautiful one. But no one ever believes me. It isn't fair."

"Yes, I am as angry as you, Grell," William admitted, pushing himself up next to the tearful redhead and pulling her closer, allowing her to rest her head on his chest as a few tears escaped her eyes. "But you do fool people into believing you're a lady when you wear your dresses, Grell. It is simply because you must wear a man's uniform at work that you cannot quite pull it off."

Grell pulled back slightly, eyes rimmed with red. "Y-you really think so?"

William nodded slightly, before leaning forward to readjust the pillows, the intricately carved headboard having dug into his back. Grell made an 'O' shape with her mouth, before blushing and looking down, fingers playing with the white lines on the red duvet below her. Nervously, she tapped a tune on her stomach, before turning back to him and linking their fingers, raising his hand to her lips and kissing his fingers while their eyes were still connected. It had become their thing. Whenever Grell wished to thank him, she always did that, though often she mumbled the words 'thank you' too. Understanding rushed through William at her lack of words, though. What he had said was very nice for her, and she couldn't find a way to thank him in words. He had settled her turmoil inside, and she was thanking him for it without having to explain.

"But, you realise," she began again, playing with his fingers as she looked away, clearly hoping for nonchalant, but really sounding nervous and resigned, though William was unsure as to how a person could sound both at any one time. Then again, Grell was a whole lot of contradictions all at once, and it suited her. She was man and woman, nice and nasty, lazy and hard-working, a fighter and protective, confident and unsure, happy and sad – the list could go on for days, and William loved her for it. "That one of them is your fault. If you just let me tell people-" William opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Grell holding up a hand. "And I know you won't, because you don't want congratulations, but if you did just tell people, then no one would accuse me of being a whore when they see me flirting with you, or of carrying demon children."

"I know," William replied softly, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss it this time. "And I shall be telling Mr Kelly that I am the father, and that I do not appreciate his accusations and actions towards you, and I shall allow you to tell your colleagues, my subordinates."

"You will?" Grell asked, eyes flying wide and body freezing. "Bu-but- But you said that I couldn't. At all."

"That was eight weeks ago, Grell," William replied, eyeing the woman warily. With what he was about to tell her, it was very likely that he would be receiving a slap again soon. "I have been meaning to inform you that you may inform your colleagues of my being the father."

A resounding crack caused William to blink, and he felt the pain lance through his cheek as his head turned to the side, receiving the slap that he had known was coming. Grell didn't look even the tiniest bit apologetic. Instead, fury was written on her features.

"You mean I have been bullied about being 'knocked up' for weeks, and you haven't told me that I could _make it stop_? Do you _enjoy_ seeing me upset or something, William, because it seems that way to me."

Refusing to reach up and rub his cheek – she had really hurt him this time – William stared at her, guilt rolling through his stomach. He had meant to tell her, he knew, it was just finding the right time. Most of the time, before he could tell her, Grell had pulled him into a kissing session, and other times he had been barely able to get a word in edgeways through her crying, obsessing or yelling. It had been impossible to speak when she was forcing him to try her 'cinnamon diet', and at work it was also hard to tell her without having found himself with an armful of red and a full blown kissing session occurring, and he wouldn't accept that behaviour at work. Professionalism was what he was all about.

"I apologise," William murmured, wondering just how red his cheek was. It was still stinging, and Grell had hit it at least a minute ago. Sometimes, William missed her gloves, though other times he thoroughly enjoyed the skin-on-skin contact. This was not one of those times. "I had not realised that your co-workers were laughing at you."

"Every day," Grell hissed. "Joshie doesn't, and though I never liked him before, and he is still an annoying little twerp, I spend more time around him, Eric, Alan, Ronnie and Jorge than anyone else at work. And it's _all your fault_."

Slowly, giving Grell ample time to pull away if she really wanted to, William reached out to cup her face, eyes searching hers sadly. "I apologise for that," he murmured, leaning closer to her. "I had not realised what was happening. If you had told me, I would have stopped them, you realise."

"I couldn't be sure," Grell replied, leaning closer to him, eyes still sparking, though softening all the time. Her eyebrows were creased in sadness. "Before, you had never really seemed to care for my feelings at all."

"I would do anything for you, Grell," William whispered, lips brushing the redhead's. "You and the children are both the most important things in my world."

"Not at work," Grell replied, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck once more. "At work, you couldn't care less."

"At work, I am being professional," William replied, smiling when he felt Grell's stomach brush against his, before she wriggled upwards and straddled him, instead, hands still brushing at his neck. "I still love you when I'm there."

"Oh, William," Grell whispered, before crushing their lips together and pulling herself closer still to him. He ran a hand over her back, his other tangling in the bright red strands of her hair, which was spread over the cover at the bottom, normally reaching down to her calves. Tugging on it a little, whilst licking at her lips to allow him entrance to her mouth, William elicited a quite groan from the redhead, and he felt his lips twitch upward in reaction.

He couldn't help but be reminded of their first kiss, where she had slapped him and then kissed him, much like she had now, only this time without cutting his face. Curiously, still fascinated by the feeling of her teeth, William ran a tongue along them, before wondering how she felt about his teeth. They must feel strange to her, too, he supposed. Breathing her strong cinnamon scent in, hearing the soft whisper of Grell's hair brushing against the duvet and tangling around his legs, William prepared to pull back to ask her, but was surprised by a jolt from Grell.

She pulled back, looking confused, and William wondered if she was about to rush off to the bathroom, before remembering that she had stopped needing to do that two weeks ago. Appearing to shrug it off after nothing happened for a second, Grell leaned back in, leaning forward to brush their lips together, smiling as William leaned forward to deepen the kiss. However, before he could, Grell jolted and put her hands on her stomach, eyes wide. What, exactly, was happening, he wondered.

Once more Grell jolted, before her face went pale and she looked at William gravely.

"I think something is trying to tear its way out of me, Willy-darling," she whispered, eyes connecting with his as he reached out to straighten her glasses. "Something is moving inside."

She squeaked and jolted again, before throwing herself closer to him and huddling next to him. Lips twitching upwards and eyes shining, William shook his head, feeling loose strands of hair fall onto his forehead. He had suspected something like this was going to happen. After hearing Grell say that something was trying to break out of her, he knew that the babies were kicking, but clearly Grell didn't. Instead, she whimpered when it next occurred, grabbing his wrist and using it to place his hand upon her stomach.

Waiting a while, her eyes connecting with his, she creased her eyebrows, still not catching on to what was happening. Before too long she squeaked again, and William could feel the slightest of fluttering under his hand, clearly the movements of their tiny children. Love swelled up within him and he chuckled slightly, shaking his head at Grell and lowering his lips down to her ear. Her hands were still holding his wrist in place.

"That's the babies kicking, Grell," William whispered, causing Grell to make an 'O' shape with her mouth and go red again, embarrassment on her face. "Honestly. Call yourself a mother."

His lips twitched upwards in amusement, but his face barely changed, just like usual.  
"That's not fair," she argued softly, hands letting go of his wrist to lay flat against her skin, fingers brushing his. Looking down in renewed interest at the movement within her, she smiled. "I wasn't expecting it to happen."

"But you are the one who is supposed to know ' _lots and lots and lots, Willy-darling'_ about children, are you not?" He had affected a high pitched voice and spoke quickly to mimic Grell, though Grell seemed too distracted to be annoyed. Suddenly, William thought of something. "There. You can hardly name them 'Sullen' if they are bothering to kick so often." His words were emphasised by another slight flutter underneath his hands.

"No," Grell agreed, looking disappointed, before perking up a little. "But I told you they were all girls. They're kicking with a vengeance, see? That's what girls do."

"If that is what you wish to believe, I'm not going to stop you," William replied, before leaning them both forwards. Gently, he rearranged the pillows, before pulling Grell off the bed so that he and she could climb under the covers. Done, he pulled her close to him, their glasses laying on the side.

Though he could see very little, only a few blurs of colours here and there, he somehow knew that Grell was still staring down at her stomach and rubbing at it in wonder, one of her hands fiddling with his hair. She was probably looking gleeful, ready to stop the cruel words the people said to her at work about her pregnancy. William didn't blame her. Shaking his head and smiling a little, William settled down to sleep before the next day, knowing it would be a big one.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Once again, I thank those who are giving me nice reviews. It's great to see people enjoying my work. Also, BlackButlerFan13 has asked me to give a shoutout to their work Ask the Shinigami Cast. It is actually pretty funny, so check it out. Hope you enjoy my chapter. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, just the OC characters that are woven throughout this chapter. There are quite a few, so I won't list them.

Difficult Love Chapter Fourteen

Grell awoke the next day to a rather violent kick from one of the children inside of her and she smiled, though winced in discomfort a little. Did they really have to be quite so strong? Even after they had only just started kicking? Remembering her stupidity towards their kicking the night before, Grell turned and huddled into the warmth next to her, breathing in its soothing, warm scent, before realising that it was William. Her eyes shot wide as she moved, breathing a sigh of relief when she noticed that the other man was still sleeping. She could watch him for a while.

His eyes were fluttering behind his eyes as he slept, and Grell knew that he was dreaming. Hopefully it was about her, though from the looks of things it was something rather more peaceful than she had been lately. Maybe it was the babies? Grell had to admit that it was a nice thought. Hair hung over his forehead, making him look younger, and Grell smiled at the reminder of their academy days, when William had worn his hair in that messy style all the time, instead of slicking it back. Then again, he looked very handsome with slicked back hair. Grell grinned, widening her smile only further as William tightened his hold on her and pulled her closer, squashing her slightly and causing her to wriggle away, babies kicking again.

Opening his eyes slowly, William blinked at Grell, before squinting, clearly unable to see her. Chuckling quietly, Grell reached over him, hand outstretched for the fuzzy object on the side that had to be her glasses, due to the fuzzy-looking chain and frame. Slipping them on with one hand, knowing they sat annoyingly crooked on her nose, she reached for William's glasses, handing them to him as he pulled back. Her eyesight was considerably better than his. She could see, without her glasses, but everything was rather fuzzy. With them, everything was so much clearer, sharper, and generally easier to navigate. It must have been hell to be stuck with poor eyesight like the black haired man next to her.

"Good morning, William," she smiled, rubbing her stomach, before throwing her arms upwards and arching her back in a stretch. "The babies are kicking again."

"I'm not surprised," he replied, holding back a yawn. He looked over to her bed stand to find that it was six in the morning, when Grell normally woke up so that she could apply her makeup and get dressed, and do her hair, and have breakfast. William normally woke up about an hour later than her, though she still hadn't left her room by the time he had left his. "Good morning," he added, sitting up and sliding out of bed, only to retrieve a robe and wrap it around himself. "Why have you awoken so early?"

"I always get up at this time," Grell replied, before explaining, in detail, about her beauty routine in the mornings. William barely looked like he was listening, moving silently towards the door and barely glancing at her. Hand on the door handle, he turned back to face her. "Go and put your extensive knowledge in the field of beauty to good use while I make breakfast, please."

He yawned again, before slipping out the door and down the stairs.

Smiling at his retreating back, Grell placed her feet on the floor, wincing at the cold wood, before slipping into her room, ready to change for the day. First, she found some clean underwear and put that on, before locating a pair of trousers that William had bought her with a stretching waist, allowing them to comfortably fit over her baby bump. They were a little short on the legs, but she didn't care about that, instead covering the showing skin with pink and purple striped stockings. Connecting some red braces to the belt, she allowed them to fall down around her hips, knowing that to actually wear them properly would be social suicide.

After searching for a good while through the massive pile of white shirts in one corner of her wardrobe, she finally managed to locate one of the new, larger shirts that William bought her, the size big enough to fit over her stomach without straining any buttons. The sleeves were a little long, the cuffs falling down and covering the black leather gloves on her hands, save for her fingers, but it was comfortable, and that was what counted. Easily, she slipped an open red waistcoat over the top and tied a pink bow around her neck, before sitting before her makeup counter and slipping her glasses off, applying the makeup instinctually.

She didn't do much to the eyes, outlining the upper lid with a thin line of black, before sticking on her fake lashes and dusting her lids with a faint golden powder, knowing that it was just enough to shimmer in the light, but at other times not be seen. Then, she powdered her face, smiling at the even paleness that she created, before running a red lipstick over her lips. Finished, she clicked the lid back on the lipstick, before pursing her lips and blowing herself a kiss in the mirror, slipping her glasses back on to confirm her suspicions of looking brilliant, all save for her hair. That was a quick fix though. She ran a brush through it, taking five minutes, as always, and a lot of stretching to reach the bottom, before leaping up and going in search of William.

It didn't take long to find him, bumping into him the second that she opened her door, only to find that he was standing there, fully suited and ready to go to work, and clearly searching for her. Glancing at the clock on the wall outside her room, Grell realised that she had spent a good two hours getting ready, and that the two had an hour to eat breakfast and leave before work. Smiling, she waited for William to step back, before stepping out of the room herself and shutting the door behind her.

"I have made you toast for breakfast," William stated, starting to walk forwards, her hurrying to match his step with her stockinged feet. Her stockings made a soft whisper against the rug running down the centre of the hall. "And before you ask, I have also sprinkled it with cinnamon, and laid out two Jaffa Cakes for you."

"Thank you, darling," she said, linking his fingers with hers and kissing his hand as always. William's lips twitched upwards again, and Grell grinned, knowing that it was as close to a smile as William could give. "I don't suppose you've seen a pair of boots with a pink furry top anywhere around here?"

"I have," William told her, eyebrow raising. "Though I do not know why you wish to know. Furry items of clothing are not permitted in the uniform check. You are already pushing it with your usual outfits. Especially that one. Waistcoats should be, by regulation, black, and that is clearly red. So is the coat you were every day, and you are supposed to wear a tie to work, not a bow, and especially not a pink one."

"Shut up," Grell replied, reaching the kitchen and leaning her back against the counter, one arm folded across her chest and the other holding a slice of toasted bread as she munched into it, the scent of cinnamon wafting up to her nose. "You think I look stunning, really, and are just worried that I will cause a distraction to you. Admit it."

"I shall admit to nothing of the sort. What you wear breaks almost every rule there is about uniform, yet I let it slide, for I know I have no hope of winning against you on this issue. Honestly."

William closed his eyes, before picking up the daily newspaper and reading it, as if he cared about what happened in the Mortal Realm. He was only doing it to see if there was any news that may affect the Reapers. There rarely was.

"Yes, yes," Grell chirped impatiently, chomping on more toast and looking dissatisfied when it was gone, before starting on the Jaffa Cakes, humming at the sweet taste of the orange on her tongue. "But the shoes, William. Where are they?"

"The bathroom. I believe you threw them in there a few nights ago, claiming that they had conspired to injure you."

Grell giggled a little, remembering. She had attempted to wear the shoes a few nights ago, thinking that they would have gone perfectly with a little pink number that she had to wear, but had instead caught her fingers in the zip, ending up hopping on one foot and shaking her fingers around, before stubbing her toe on the other's heel. After that, risking looking like a complete fool to William, which was something she risked on a daily basis anyway, she had torn them off of her feet, slipping on black ballet flats instead, and stormed out of the room, before throwing them in the bathroom and yelling at them. She had chosen the bathroom because they could sit nicely in the bath and she could pretend it was a little prison for them, but they had never made it there, as William had happened along at that point in time, and Grell had hastily tried to pretend that she wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary at all.

"Huh," she said, realisation dawning on her. "You heard that, I guess. Whatever. I need them again now."

With that, snatching up the last Jaffa Cake, Grell strode past William, placing a small kiss on his forehead as she went, smiling at the fact that she still felt butterflies whenever they interacted in such a way.

It wasn't long before she had reached the bathroom and opened the door, eyes peeled for any sign of the shoes. Locating them easily, Grell realised that William had set them beside the bath neatly, and smiled because of him, picturing his stern face behind her eyelids. He was a wonderful man, seemingly very cold, but really very soft just for her, though not very relaxed. He was everything she had ever wanted in a man, just like she had always known he would be, and she grinned again, picking up her discarded coat in the living room and slipping it on, allowing it to fall to her elbows, as per usual.

"William," Grell stepped into the entryway, locating the black haired man easily by following her nose to where the coffee smell was coming from. A wheedling tone had entered her voice, and she wrapped her arms around him from behind, drawing lines on his chest with her fingers. "Will you please help me tell people that you're the father today? They're unlikely to believe me alone."

William tensed a little, making Grell fear that his answer would be no, but he relaxed again, sipping at the coffee from the cup he was holding in his hand and turning to face her slightly. "If you are willing to wait an hour or so that I can get some urgent business out of the way first, then yes, I can."

"Isn't this more urgent?"

"I am going to be in a meeting with my superiors."

"Oh," Grell felt her face fall, her eyes dropping towards the floor, before raising again and fixing with William's gaze. "I see. That's okay then."

She smiled supportively. "Have fun."

"Fun has nothing to do with it," William replied, placing his cup down on the windowsill and running his hand down the side of her face, before placing a soft kiss against her lips that left her with a wildly beating heart and closed eyes, shut against the sweet sensation and the onslaught of love she felt from it. She still wasn't used to the fairy tale feeling, she supposed. "Try to fend for yourself for an hour or two. I shall come to help as soon as I am finished, I assure you. Besides," he pointed out, fiddling with her hair some more, still locked in her grip. She refused to let him go. "The Grell I know can handle something like this. Honestly."

Smiling, Grell pulled away, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and pouting up at him, fluttering her eyelashes and awaiting a kiss that never came. Instead, William stepped around her and opened the door, holding the door open so that Grell could follow him outside. Soon, they had portalled themselves into the Shinigami Realm and were nearing the Dispatch building, Grell constantly trying to link their hands and William pulling away, lecturing her about professionalism. She just pouted, folding her arms and devising a punishment for him. He didn't particularly seem too keen on her cinnamon experiments, she supposed. Maybe she would make him force down another of them, claiming overtime when she knew he had none. A devious grin rose to her lips.

"Guess what, guess what, guess what?" Grell called, rushing down the hallway before William and ignoring the people who sniggered at her behind her hands. Reaching Frieda's desk, she bent over it and panted a little, before looking up and smiling. Behind her, William slipped into his office.

"I don't know, Grell. What?" Frieda replied, skim reading some paperwork and putting it to the side. Clearly, it had nothing to do with her.

"William said I can tell people that he's the father," she hurried out on one breath, leaving the silver haired woman to stare at her a second, before breaking into a small smile. She fiddled with a few silver strands of her hair, wrapping them around her finger. Grell wondered if it took as long as it did for her hair to curl it in such a manner as Frieda had. She did have exceptionally long hair, after all.

Frieda tapped the desk beside her, inviting Grell to sit on the surface, so long as she didn't touch any of her work, and rearranged her Alice band, pushing her hair even further out of her eyes.

Whilst she walked around the desk, Grell took the time to study the other woman, frowning at her colour choice of the day. Sure, Grell liked the colour yellow as much as the next person, but in small doses, and always paired with red. Frieda, however, appeared to like it enough to wear it as a short sleeved blouse, tucked into a white pencil skirt. She wore a set of three bangles on each wrist, one yellow, one pale green and one white, and her suit jacket was grey. Her glasses were black framed and large, making Grell think that it was a spare pair that she owned, for normally they were small and frameless, much like Alan's. On her feet were toeless yellow heels, and she wore a black heart on a gold chain around her neck.

"How did you get him to do that, Red?" she asked, making Grell smile. It had been a long while since she had heart Frieda use her nickname, and she enjoyed hearing it, feeling as if things were finally going back to normal. Well, normal with some improvements.

"It was Harry Kelly's fault," Grell said dreamily, clasping her hands together and remembering the night before. "He really should realise that annoying the mother is going to annoy the father, don't you think?"

"I always knew that man would end up kicking himself," Frieda replied with a smile, tapping her manicured nails against the desk. Briefly, Grell wondered where the other's gloves were, and fiddled with her own, distractedly.

"Well, William says he's going to talk to the man, so I am hoping he will apologise," Grell murmured, before the two of them connected their gazes and burst out laughing at the same time. "Though to see the look on his face when he is doing so will be hilarious, darling."

"Oh, I can imagine," Frieda replied, going back to twirling her hair around her fingers. "I do so wish to be there. You are going to have to tell Bianca and Jorge the scene, too, as well as me. We can't wait."

"Oh, I will, Darling, I promise you," Grell replied, blushing at the thought of William rolling his eyes as she declared that he was her knight in shining armour to her friends. That, she knew, would be exactly how he would react should he be in the same room as the others when she told the story, and a small giggle rose to her lips, which she covered with her fingers. "But anyway… how are you and An going?"

"Pretty much the same as you and William are," Frieda replied, picking up a pen and shoving it into the glass pot on her desk, a blush rising to her pale cheeks. She ignored it as William opened the door and strode past her, clearly on the way to his meeting. He didn't look particularly pleased to see her sitting and talking with his secretary, but there was nothing he could do if he wished to be on time. "Though An is obsessed with finding a child to take care of. I can't seem to get her to slow down to think even for a minute. Besides, there is this really adorable child in the care home named Violet McDonald. I still think it's a little early to consider adoption, but An is adamant, and I wouldn't mind the practise at taking care of a child."

"No fair," Grell whined, eyes sparkling with interest. If her friends did decide to go for the child, then they would be getting one before she had even given birth, without all the pain of the later stages of pregnancy and the actual birth. Grell mock scowled. "If you do that, then you'll be getting your children quicker than I get mine, and I got pregnant _first_."

"Grell," Frieda said patiently, tapping at the desk with the pen, having removed it from the pen pot again. "Two women cannot get pregnant together. We can, however, adopt. Besides, as I said, I'm trying to talk her out of it. Though if I can't, she has told me that she wants you to be the godmother."

"But then I'll have _fourteen_ children, honey," Grell complained, though she smiled through it to show that she was really actually excited. Clapping her hands, Grell hopped off the desk, preparing to warn Frieda to take it slowly, though. They had only been dating for four weeks, just as she and William had, and though they had known each other longer, and been friends for a very long time before dating, they needed to make sure that they wouldn't be disrupting the child's future, though Grell doubted that they ever would. Frieda had been very much like her in the sense that she had loved someone for a very long time, though she had never said it out loud, unlike Grell. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a kick from the children interrupted her, and she grinned. "Also, guess what else happened last night?"

"If you tell me about another one of your make out sessions with William," Frieda began, looking menacing. "I shall stab you with my shoe."

"Oh, honey," Grell smiled, patting the silver haired woman on the head. "You wouldn't even be able to reach me with those things. But no, that isn't it. The babies started kicking!"

"What?" Frieda asked, shock and joy evident on her face. Quickly, she reached out, placing a hand on the redhead's stomach and waiting. Sure enough, a few seconds after she did that, a small flutter under her hand indicated that one of the children had kicked out. "Oh, she's a feisty thing, isn't she? Takes after her mother, I presume?"

"Most likely," Grell allowed, before noticing the time on the wall. She had wasted an hour with Frieda already, and had to leave. "Though she may just be very angry at me for not doing something right, like Willy-darling often is. I have to go." With that she turned, a smile still on her lips as disappointment spread itself across Frieda's face. "I'll talk to you later, Riri."

"Yes," Frieda agreed, the sound of shuffling paper coming from her direction. "See you later, Red."

William sighed, glad that the meeting he had been attending was over, and pushed up his glasses, rubbing at his temples. He had so much work to do, and so little time to do it. Trying to look as calm as possible, knowing that he was looking as neat as always, he strode through the halls, seeing that Grell and Frieda had stopped talking, evidenced by the fact that Frieda was walking towards him, wearing bright yellow. Often, William found it a tad annoying that the female workers could wear whatever they wanted, so long as it was posh, unless working in Collections for going out. There were very few females that worked actually collecting things, though, so most of the girls wore brightly coloured outfits. At least it brought a bit of colour to the office, he decided, walking past her.

Before long, William was nearing his office. Seeing movement out the corner of his eye, William turned, only to find himself face to face with Mr Kelly, the very man he had been searching for all day, though not obviously. He really did need to talk to the man.

Stepping back a little, William observed him for a few seconds. His blonde hair was a little disarrayed, but it wasn't awful. His black framed glasses rested quite far down his nose, as usual, and he was fiddling with them as he turned to William, closing his eyes and acting as if he was high and mighty, or something like that. William decided, for the first time, that he didn't much like the man.

"Good morning, Mr Spears," his voice was cool and even, and very posh sounding, though William didn't feel intimidated. Saved for being deeper than his, Mr Kelly's voice was very similar to his own. "I wished to talk to you about one particular worker of yours."

"Good morning, Mr Kelly," William responded, before turning and gesturing for the other to follow him to his office, where they could talk without interruptions. "I, too, would like to speak with you."

Nodding slightly, Mr Kelly drew equal beside William as they walked, only parting from the man's side when William took his chair on one side of the desk, and Mr Kelly took his chair on the other side of the desk, still somehow managing to look more important than William. It was infuriating.

"That employee of yours, Grell Sutcliff," Mr Kelly began, putting his hands on the hooks of his glasses and looking at William over them, as though they both knew what he was talking about. William resisted the urge to clench his fists, the gloves over his hands feeling as though they were trapping them. "He was sleeping on the job yesterday. I can't stand that sort of uncouth behaviour, so I gave her overtime, though I fear she may have complained to you. Am I wrong?"

"I have received a complaint along those lines, yes," William confirmed as politely as he could under the circumstances. "Though it was not today that I received it, but last night, quite late. Thank you for that, Sir."

"I cannot take responsibility for the actions of that-" he broke himself off from whatever word he had been going to use, instead thinking for a short while and rephrasing his sentence. "Unpleasant person." He continued, looking as if he had smelt something bad. William was very tempted to punch the man, but refrained from doing so with difficulty. "I merely wished to inform you that you may wish to discipline him more. That is all. If you have nothing to say, then I shall be going."

He rose and nodded, crossing the room halfway before William called him back. With William's voice, he turned, looking incredulous, as if he couldn't believe that William had dared to speak to him. His opinion of the man was getting worse and worse, and William feared that the man could not redeem himself at all for the future. He sat down in the chair again and crossed his legs, intertwining his fingers and waiting for William to speak.

"It seems to me, Sir," William began, making the other man tilt his head in interest. Clearly, Mr Kelly thought that William was going to ask to fire Grell, or something of the sort. He would do no such thing. "That you ought to learn the lunch hours of the workers, if you believe that Sutcliff was asleep while working."

"Did he tell you that he was on a lunchbreak?" Mr Kelly asked, looking annoyed at William. The other man made William feel as if he were a mosquito buzzing around the room, merely a pathetic annoyance for him. "Because he was most certainly lying. It was one thirty, and the lunchbreak begins at twelve and finishes at one."

"Sutcliff's doesn't," William was struggling to remember not to call Grell by her first name, so as not to raise suspicion too early. He was also struggling not to hit the man and correct his use of 'he', as Grell wanted to be a 'she', but that was beside the point. "On a Thursday, Sutcliff takes lunch at one until two. It was a Thursday yesterday."

Mr Kelly's face was heating, and William felt a tinge of satisfaction flow through him. He had got the best of the man before him, and he was rather enjoying seeing the blonde's face heat up in annoyance and embarrassment. Clearly flustered, Mr Kelly continued. "Nevertheless, he should not have been sleeping in the office. Just because he's got himself knocked up doesn't mean that he should have your sympathy, Mr Spears. He is most likely carrying the offspring of demons, and he is certainly trying to attract attention, dressing as if he were a woman. As if."

A slight tinge of red must have been on William's cheeks, he knew, for he was furious at the words coming out of Mr Kelly's mouth. Despite knowing of the man's dislike for Grell, he still couldn't stand to hear someone talking so badly about the woman he loved. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he stayed silent through the rest of Mr Kelly's rant.

"Furthermore," He said, not noticing just how tense William had become. "He never does his work, and he is always procrastinating with that old lady outside your door. Honestly, do you have no decent workers in this department?"

"While it may be so that Sutcliff is always talking outside of my door with Miss Irwin, who was new to working as a Reaper only ten years ago," William replied stiffly, pushing up his glasses and eyeing the other man with distaste. "Do you not think it rude to give a pregnant Reaper of any sort overtime? If they were sleeping in their lunchbreak, do you not think that there may have been good reason?"

"I will play no part in the birth of abominations. Even if they are fully Reaper blooded, which I highly doubt, they are being birthed by a man. That is not natural, and therefore, the things that come out will be abominations."

"Those abominations, as you call them," William managed to choke out, furious and horrified by what Mr Kelly had just said about his children. " _Are_ fully Reaper blooded."

"How would you know that?" Mr Kelly asked, pushing his glasses up and raising a perfect blonde eyebrow. "Even if he told you, you cannot trust Sutcliff."

"I would know that, Mr Kelly," William all but growled, hands clenched into fists in a serious attempt to stop himself from lashing out with his scythe, as he had so often done before with Grell. Wincing a little at the thought, he allowed his shoulders to relax, knowing that all Mr Kelly would really do is get himself hurt with his continued behaviour. "Because those children are mine."

Mr Kelly looked at William pityingly, as if he thought William should be upset by the fact that the children were being born. William closed his eyes and massaged his temples, thinking soothing thoughts of Grell from the night before, and the gentle kicks of the infants inside of her. Breathing out slowly, he opened his eyes again.

"Did she trick you into it?" Mr Kelly sounded sad, as if he were about to apologise for William's circumstances. "Or were you drunk? No matter, I suppose. I bet you want those things gone as much as I do."

"On the contrary, Mr Kelly," William snapped, fingers folded on his desk as he sat up straighter, enjoying the look of surprise on the blonde man's face. "I would love to keep the children, Mr Kelly. If-"

He was cut off by the man, who clearly thought he knew what William was going to say, though he obviously didn't. "If only they didn't have any part of that vile creature in them. Yes, I know. I'm sorry, Mr Spears."

"If you would let me finish," William said, patience wearing very thin. He was very close to striding over to the man and punching him, no matter the consequences. No wonder Grell had never liked him. He could understand her reasoning now, and felt a little guilty from where he had urged her to get along with him as best she could, back before they had started dating. "I was going to say 'If you would kindly leave', but now I have something rather more pressing to say."

Mr Kelly waited with eyebrow raised, clearly not impressed with William's tone of voice. William couldn't blame him. He sounded like he was about to spit, just as a cat would.

"I would very much like to keep the children, seeing as they are Grell's. Grell is the mother of my children, and not a vile creature. You would do well to remember, sir, that should you upset her enough to make her cry again, you shall have me to answer to."

"A poor choice to make, William," Mr Kelly purred, looking around the room with amusement. "Deciding to snap at me that way. One day, maybe in years, maybe very soon, but one day, I'll get back at you, so watch your back."

William kept his head down, pretending to be working on a document on the table, but he was really biting the inside of his lips and trying to prevent himself from hurting the other man. Finally, once the door had swung shut quietly behind the other man, William looked up, face finally back to its blank mask, though heart still beating angrily fast. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, William decided that he would look for Grell, completely ignoring the warning that Kelly had spat at him. Setting off quickly, knowing that it was nearing the end of his shift, and Grell's, and that Grell would easily be able to calm him down, William tried to locate the redhead.

Finally, after looking for her in all the normal places to find her, William decided to check her office. She was there, for once, and looking very upset, facing a crowd of laughing people, all of which looked as if they were laughing at something that she had said. Easily slipping into the room, William skirted the crowd and found himself behind Grell's chair quickly, the laughing stopping as people noticed him for the first time, and nudged each other to shut each other up.

"It is true, I swear," Grell whined, eyes filling with tears as her co-workers laughed at her once more. She had finally decided to get some work done, and had been at it for most of the afternoon, when a group of people had burst into her room, laughing about the fact that she had got herself knocked up and that they bet she couldn't tell them who the father was. She had been expecting it, as it happened every day, only this time she had been allowed to say who the father was. They didn't believe her, instead laughing in her face as she sat and felt tears prick at her eyes.

"Yeah, right," a brown haired, tall man leant over her desk, hands in his pockets as he looked at her. She leant backwards, documents held up to her face, as she tried to get away from his menacing bulk. His voice was rough and mocking. "Mr Spears is the father of your baby. Pull the other one."

With that, he moved backwards, giving Grell her space back.

"He _is_ ," she insisted, hands resting on her stomach and face set into a scowl, even as a stray tear leaked down her cheek. "And he's the father of more than one baby."

"Oh, wow," a white haired guy with a very tidy suit on spoke up next, leaning against the wall in the corner and fiddling with a lighter, clearly weighing the merits of lighting a cigarette in her room. She hoped he didn't. She couldn't stand the smell of the smoke. "Not only as she gone and let herself become a single mother," he said, amusement clear in his tone. "But she has gone and let herself be a single mother for two. Oh, that's good. That's funny."

He slapped his leg, and others joined in with the cheering, a mocking laugh going around the room once more. Grell dropped her head onto the desk, preparing to give up and cry, just like she did every day, but then a hush fell over the room. Maybe this time they had realised they had gone too far? Hope swelling within her, Grell lifted her head, peeking up at them to see if any of their faces looked apologetic. They didn't. In fact, they weren't even looking at her, but at something behind her. Curious, she turned, only to be met with the towering form of William T. Spears, her love, facing the dead crowd.

Nobody moved for a second, and nobody spoke for thirty. An awkward hush fell over the room, broken finally by William. Grell's heart fluttered when she heard his voice.

"What is going on here, Grell?"

The use of her first name clearly shocked many of the Reapers in the room, their faces blanching and their eyes growing wide. They looked between the two Reapers in confusion for a minute, before shaking their heads and rolling their eyes, thinking that it was a joke.

"They don't believe me, Willy-darling," Grell whispered, reaching up and back to connect her hand with William's. At first, he seemed reluctant to be holding hands with her, but he relaxed slowly. Grell wasn't offended. She knew that William had a hard time being affectionate with her at work, and in front of other people. He was doing both, now, so Grell forgave him easily. "About you being the father of these ones." She gestured to her belly.

"What, exactly," William asked, turning away from Grell to face the rest of the Reapers. Grell smiled, happily. "Is so hard to believe about me being the father?"

"So you really are then?" A voice spoke up at the back. It was a short, brunette woman with red glasses and a frumpy looking outfit on. "The father of the children. Sutcliff isn't lying?"

"Sutcliff isn't lying," William conformed, receiving a tight squeeze of the hand when he used Grell's surname. He hadn't done it to be rude to her, she knew, but to carry on talking about her from the brunette. Still, it annoyed her, and he would know about it. "I am the father of the children. Now, please, get back to work."

With that, the rest of the Reapers in her office left, looking blank and confused. Smiling a little, Grell turned to William, knowing it would take them a while to understand what had just happened. Seeing the look on William's face, though, and Grell's smile dropped.

"Are you okay, Willy-darling?" Grell asked, slipping out of her chair and stepping around it, leaning against William so that her cheek was pressed to his chest, and he himself was wrapping his arms around her, gently. "You look furious. I thought you said that I could tell them that you were the father?"

"It isn't that," William assured her, running his gloved hands through her hair and kissing her on the top of her head, making her hum in pleasure, slightly. He then moved his other hand to press against her stomach, lips twitching upwards when he felt the small kicks of the baby. "I spoke with Mr Kelly, just now, is all."

"Oh," Grell pulled a face, one hand resting over William's on her stomach, the other reaching up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, the gesture always comforting him a little, somehow. He relaxed slightly as her fingers moved, and she relaxed because of it, glad that he was somewhat less tense. "Was he a pig? He's always a pig to me?"

"He was a pig," William confirmed, hand continuing to run through her hair, though never reaching the bottom of the strands. This didn't surprise Grell, whose hair hung around her knees. It would be almost impossible for William to stroke all of it unless he knelt down on the ground to get to the lower half of the strands. "However, I shan't bore you with the details. What an unpleasant man. Honestly."

With that, William placed a quick peck on her lips, causing her eyes to slip shut and a smile to spread across her face, before pulling back and heading towards the door.

"Come," William told her, holding the door open for her as he stood there, waiting for her. "Out shifts are over, though death knows that I have had a less than productive day. We are due at the hospital for a check-up on your pregnancy. I believe they were going to see if they could discern the number of heartbeats today."

Excitement ran through Grell at the prospect of learning if she was carrying two or three little critters in her stomach, and she hurriedly slipped on her coat, pacing out of the door after William and allowing it to slip shut. Linking her hand with his and wrapping her spare arm around his, smiling up at him when he looked down, Grell followed him out of the door of the building at to the hospital, feeling confused eyes following their every movement and knowing that the fact that William was the father would be all that was talked about the next day, and all round the building. Happily, she trotted along to the hospital, ready to discover how many children she was carrying.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, just this plotline.

Difficult Love Chapter Fifteen

Grell groaned as she sat up, rubbing her stomach in the hopes of placating her kicking children. They wouldn't stop, and it was preventing her from getting any serious lie in that morning. Next to her, William groaned and tightened his hold on her waist. Smiling, Grell reached down and ran a hand through his hair, loving the feeling of the soft strands running between her fingers as she looked around, thankful that William had agreed to sleep in her room than asking her to sleep in his. Red walls to wake up to was a lot more familiar and comforting to wake up to than blue ones, even if they did have a few red tapestries on them.

Slowly, William blinked his eyes open next to her, squinting as he felt rather than saw her sitting up next to him.

"What's wrong, Grell?" William asked, his voice still thick with sleep. "Why are you up so early?"

"These two won't leave me alone," Grell replied, hand moving down from his hair and stroking his face instead. Smiling, she slipped down next to him again, eyes wide as she tried to make out his fuzzy shape. He appeared to be smiling slightly, though Grell couldn't be sure. "Isn't it odd to have a definite number of children, don't you think, William?"

"Indeed," he agreed, nuzzling into her and closing his eyes again, clearly not caring for conversation so early in the morning. "Now, go back to sleep. I'm exhausted."

"I might just leave," Grell teased, though she knew she wouldn't. The bed was very comfortable, and William was so warm that it would be impossible to tear herself away, especially when she couldn't say that she wanted to anyway. "What do you say about that, Willy-darling?"

The tightening of William's arms was all she was met with, and chuckling slightly she rolled over in his grasp, pressing her back against his chest and relaxing once more. Smile still on her face, Grell remembered the day before.

 _They had arrived at the hospital a little early, so the two had sat in the waiting room together, a familiar figure glaring at Grell, but for the most part ignoring her. Grell was too far away to know who it was, and she was often glared at, so she didn't pay it any mind. Next to her, William had been sitting up straight, receiving many odd stares at being with her. She had just smiled._

 _Before too long though, Grell had been called into the room, and William had gone in with her, making Nurse Liz give him some very odd looks. She appeared to know the man, and Grell soon learned that she had treated him when he had come out rather badly from a demon attack, though the demon had had it worse, she had been told. Giggling and talking as always, Nurse Liz admitted that she had never suspected William to have been the father. Grell had just smiled, feeling her eyes crinkling at the corners, knowing that she had caused a lot of surprise in that single day, William helping her._

 _Laying on the bed, Grell had relaxed while Nurse Liz buzzed around, asking questions and checking to see if the pregnancy was going well, before smiling widely, shiny teeth showing, and producing an odd brass trumpet. Grell had stared at it in confusion for a few seconds, before Nurse Liz reminded her that they were going to be listening to the babies' heartbeats, and for that they needed a vessel to emphasise the sound._

 _The metal had been cold against her stomach, making Grell squirm uncomfortably and William to resettle his standing position, almost as if he really wanted to snap at her but was refraining. Maybe he had thought that he wouldn't have reacted so dramatically to such a small thing. After a few seconds of listening, Liz had moved the trumpet thing a little, before pulling it away and allowing Grell to cover her pale stomach with the even whiter shirt she was wearing. As expected, Nurse Liz began talking, confirming that William and Grell were pregnant with two children._

 _She had gone on to explain that the children would not be identical, for if they were identical then Grell would be having a difficult pregnancy, and would in fact, have four children, if she had survived the process. Somehow, Grell didn't think that Nurse Liz was a particularly comforting nurse. Nurse Liz had then helped Grell off the bed, William coming over to her and linking his arm around her waist while she grinned up at him, rubbing her belly and walking away, telling him all about how she was carrying two girls, she just knew it._

 _He had sighed and shook his head, pushing his glasses up in that stoic manner of his, but she could see the amusement in his eyes, and when she had taken his hand he had squeezed it, before pulling her away and to their home. Once there, after Grell had eaten everything she could get her hands on and complained that the babies were going to make her truly fat, William raising an eyebrow at her, she had instigated a kissing session, spending the rest of the evening wrapped up in William in front of a warm fire._

 _Yawning, she had pulled away from him, before dragging him up to her bedroom and opening the door, inviting him inside to sleep – just sleep mind – with her. He had agreed, quickly changing into his pyjamas in his own room and brushing his teeth while she had pulled a modest nightgown on, smiling as it stretched over the bump that proved she was carrying the two babies. That night, having brushed her teeth and laid on her bed, William came back up, kissing her again as he slid next to her, before leaning down and kissing her stomach twice. Grell had blushed, putting a hand to her chest as she smiled up at him, wondering at the sweet man he could be, saying hello to the babies that way_.

William nuzzled closer to her, drawing her out of her thoughts. Purring, Grell stretched, before managing to wiggle away from his arms. She had a special day planned, and she was going to get everything done correctly. Grell knew, from having been told the previous day, that Frieda and Bianca had designed and were making many baby grows, so she knew they didn't need to buy those items, but she was also perfectly aware that they were going to have to decorate the babies' room. Gently standing up, she leaned down to place a final kiss to William's head, who blinked lazily in her direction, before walking into her walk in wardrobe to change.

"We're going to get you some pretty furniture and cots today, babies," she cooed, rubbing her stomach and walking through the stacks of clothes. "And Auntie Frieda and Auntie Bianca are going to make you some pretty baby clothes. Won't that be nice?"

"What are you talking about, Grell?" William had finally dragged himself from the bed and was looking tired, eyes shining bright behind his glasses as he looked around, raising an eyebrow at just how many items of clothing were kept in her room. "I couldn't hear you from in here."

"Oh, nothing, Willy-darling," she chimed, fingers brushing over many items of red clothing that she knew she could no longer wear, instead moving to a new section of the wardrobe that Bianca and Frieda had helped her with, holding many items to be worn in her pregnancy, including the stretchy trousers and the enormous shirts. "I was just telling these two," she tapped her belly. "That we're going to go and find some nice furniture for their room and paint for their walls, no? Best to do it early. That way it won't smell like new paint when the babies go in."

"I suppose you decided this last night, without telling me?"

"Well, yes…" Grell said, looking confused about the fact that William didn't seem too keen on the idea. "But I thought it best to go today, because it's Saturday and we both have the day off. That way, we can spend tomorrow painting the room, if we don't finish today."

"Alright," William still appeared reluctant, though Grell couldn't have said why. "But no red paint on the walls of the room. We want a calming atmosphere for babies. They cry so much. Honestly."

Grell pouted but didn't argue, knowing William was right. Instead, she gripped him by the shoulders and span him, steering him out of the wardrobe and telling him not to come back until he was ready to go out, and to knock before entering her wardrobe next time. She was a lady, after all. With that, she slammed the door to her wardrobe closed, shutting herself inside and heading back to her new clothes.

Quickly, she pulled a lacy red item out the pile and considered it with pursed lips. It looked to be well enough in order for the human realm, which was where they were going to have to go. It had a small bustle and an empire waistline, vital for allowing for the extending stomach. The skirt was made with thick lace over white petticoats, only a few spots of white showing through here and there. The neckline was a u-shape, with thinner red lace covering the chest and neck, along with covering the whole arm. It was pretty, so she slipped it on, before pulling up some plain black stockings and slipping into a pair of red high heels.

Next, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and slipped a pretty red hat with small fluffy red feathers on it and three small peacock feathers in a row for decoration, before painting her eyelids red and sticking on her fake lashes. After having glossed her lips and powdered her face, she left her room, searching for William.

It wasn't long before she found him, hair slicked back as usual and tidy suit on, though it was slightly better tailored than the ones he wore to work, fitting him perfectly. Smiling, she linked her arm through his, turning him around and leading him to the kitchen, were she proceeded to eat a very large breakfast, cinnamon sprinkled, unappetizingly in William's opinion and tastefully in Grell's, over everything.

Finally, two hours after getting up, they were ready to go out. Hand in hand, they headed for the shopping district, Grell smiling as she felt the babies' excited kicks and William shaking his head when she told him that the babies knew what was going on and were excited. He told her that she was being silly, and that the babies couldn't possibly know what was going on, but he didn't sound particularly annoyed, just slightly confused at her enthusiastic ideas. She couldn't help it. She loved babies, though some children could be brats.

…..

Two hours later still, Grell thought she knew why William had been reluctant to go shopping with her. She had got distracted from baby items, instead heading straight to a beautiful dressmakers with a bright red dress in the window, causing her to wish desperately after it. The only problem was, she would never fit into it. Even when she wasn't pregnant the thing was too small. Frustrated, she wandered around all the mannequins displaying the different dress designs in the store, frustrated at only being able to find two dresses in her size when she wasn't carrying children. It wasn't like she was particularly tall, just five foot seven, a fairly normal height for a woman. And with a corset her waist could be the same. She honestly didn't understand the lack of clothes in her size.

"Excuse me miss?" A quiet voice came from behind her, and Grell turned and looked down a little, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature that had interrupted her. She was only four foot ten at most, with wide grey eyes and wavy black hair, along with pretty dark skin. Adorable was the only word that Grell could think of to describe the young lady, but she didn't let it show out loud, keeping herself in character with Mortal ladies of the time. "There is a gentleman over in that direction who wishes to speak with you."

She nodded to the opposite side of the store and to the glass windows at the front, but when Grell turned to look she found no one there. The young lady grimaced, eyes clouding with confusion.

"He was there, Madame," she said, bowing her head and turning away, the pale pink of her dress swishing behind her. "I am sorry to have disturbed you."

"Oh, it's fine," Grell purred, calling out to the retreating figure. "But I would like to ask you – where are all the dresses sizes for a woman of five foot seven?"

"Five foot seven?" The woman looked confused, glancing up at the redhead with wide eyes. "But ma'am, you must be at least five foot ten. You have at least a foot on me."

"There is a secret that every woman knows," Grell smiled, reaching for the material of her dress and hitching it up a little, showing off her heel-clad foot. "High heels. They do wonders for your height and your legs."

"Indeed," the little lady didn't look terribly impressed, instead eyeing the bulge of Grell's stomach. "Though I doubt that you need to worry about any dress sizes for a while, Madam. You appear to have more need for maternity wear than anything this shop has to offer."

"Quite the rude one, aren't you?" Grell's face fell, hands falling to her stomach protectively, even though she knew the girl wasn't out to harm her babies. It was more for the cause of protecting her children from the insult she felt in the words, rather than anything. "What on Earth would drive you to think that I wouldn't need dresses for after giving birth?"

"Because of what you are wearing, Lady." She replied, eyes running over Grell, lingering on the red lace of the sleeves and skirt, and the fancy hat she was wearing. "You appear to have enough money to have enough clothes, certainly."

"Well," Grell fluttered her eyelashes, hands rubbing on her stomach as the small woman's eyes were drawn to the bulge once more. Grinning, Grell patted it, knowing the woman was going to ask about it soon. "I must say, I _have_ acquired quite a bit of money, recently, along with a large house."

"I suppose you were married?" The raven didn't look much impressed, as though she heard the story of a woman coming by money through a man all the time. Smiling, Grell decided it was time to tell the girl a new story.

"Married?" Grell crinkled her nose, walking over to a beautifully designed, leather upholstered bench at the edge of the store, eyes catching with William's as he stood dutifully by the window, stiff and proud and looking as if he were half bored to death. Grinning, Grell wiggled her fingers at him. "No. I'm not married. I happened to be gambling and won a large sum of money with the house – well," Grell looked down, eyes narrowing. "Manor."

"You gambled and won a manor?" Interest was dancing in the other woman's eyes now, and Grell smiled and nodded, blinking her red lidded eyes. "But- you're not married? So whose child are you carrying?"

"I am carrying _children_ ," Grell said curtly, irrationally irritated that no one seemed to realise that her stomach was just slightly bigger than a normal five month pregnancy. Then again, she realised, no one knew she was five months pregnant. Bashfully, she calmed down a little. "And they are the stuck up looking man's over at the front of the shop."

"He hasn't married you?" The woman's eyebrows winged up in surprise and she flattened out some creases in her dress as she looked between the two, bemused. Grell was finding it very funny. "Or at least asked you to marry him?"

"Well, no," Grell's eyebrows crinkled. William? Marry her? The woman had to be joking. It was unlikely that William would ever wish to see her walking up an aisle to him in a white dress, veil covering her face and Jorge walking next to her, keeping her steady as she embarked upon the greatest day of her life. Well, one of them, she realised, thinking about the day that her children would be born. "But he is William T. Spears, winner of the royal 'stick up his arse' competition for-" she broke off, having been about to give the woman the true length of time that she had known William. Instead, thinking quickly, she changed it. "Ten years, at least."

The woman tittered behind her hand, warm grey eyes crinkling as she watched William, who was pushing his glasses up in discomfort as he tried to fend off the dressmaker. Clearly, she wished to take his measurements, babbling something about beautiful Christmas clothes in reds and greens, while William did his best to argue that he was perfectly happy wearing black, white and grey, with the occasional brown or beige if his clothes called for it. Grell laughed, eyes closing with the humour.

"Yes," the woman agreed, fingers fiddling with her long, silky black hair. "He is indeed rather stoic, isn't he?" She turned to Grell again, eyes back on Grell's stomach, though they often moved up to her face, and above that her hat, clearly not entirely sure how to address a Lady that, had Grell been human, would have had a higher status than her. It was obvious from the plainer clothes that the woman had much less money than Grell, though this didn't bother the redhead in the slightest.

"May I ask your name, Lady?" she began again, eyes connecting with Grell's green ones.

"Of course," Grell nodded, glancing around the store once more, before checking out the window to see if the man that the raven had been talking about had returned. He hadn't, it appeared. "I'm Grell Sutcliff, at your service."

"Oh," she replied, looking a little confused. "I'm Lilliana Murphy, Miss Sutcliff," she continued, a blush rising to her cheeks. "I must say, I was rather expecting a grand name, such as Lady Alexandria Ravenscar, or something of the sort."

"Sorry to disappoint," Grell replied, reaching up to fiddle with her hat. She was getting rather bored, she had to admit, and she was ready to go and find items for the babies now. "But I really must be going. I need to buy furniture for these two… and a pram, I suppose."

"Yes, yes," Lilliana replied, nodding her ebony head and standing, before dipping a small curtsey and walking away. "I wish you luck with your children."

"Thank you," Grell winked and walked away, smiling because she knew she had given Lilliana a reason to want more stories, and better stories, than just the natural success stories of women. Fiddling with some hair that she had pulled over her shoulder from running down her back, she walked over to William, who was looking more and more distressed by the dressmaker, who Grell realised she knew after getting a little closer.

It was the woman who had designed the dress she was wearing now, Grell realised, and she remembered her saying something about working in different shops on different days, clearly more of a traveller than a settled down business woman. Her skin was fair, though a blush had worked its way onto her cheeks from trying to take William's measurements, the man in question backing away each time, hands up and eyebrows pulled down in frustration. Her curly brown hair was working its way out of her bun and her black eyes were gleaming in frustration, but also a little humour. Clearly she was enjoying the situation. Grell suspected it was because she was getting to interact for so long with a very attractive man, and she felt a slight twinge of jealousy run through her, before relaxing when she remembered that William had gone against everything he once believed in to be with her, and was unlikely to start dating willy-nilly.

The woman was just a bit taller than Grell, no more than four inches, and she was rather large, making Grell more sure that William wouldn't leave her for the woman. It wasn't that the dressmaker, Aliyah Jefferson, Grell thought her name was, was unattractive, far from it. It was just that paired with the red dress she was wearing, clearly having taken a leaf out of Grell's book colour wise, she was starting to look a little like a tomato. Grinning widely, showing off her teeth, Grell stepped in.

"Aliyah," Grell purred, raising one of her hands and inspecting the nails, whilst watching the woman calm down and stop chasing after William. "So _good_ to see you."

"Grell Sutcliff!" Aliyah exclaimed, pushing her escaped hair back and dropping the tape measure she was holding into the front pocket of her dress. "Oh my! What a surprise to see you! They said that you never showed up to the same dressmaker twice, they did – Zariyah McFadden, I mean."

Grell rolled her eyes, annoyed at the display from the other woman. The reason that Grell often didn't go to the same dressmakers twice was because she was always on the lookout for new fashion, and most of the dressmakers, whilst still performing new styles, used old tricks and made very similar looking dresses to previous ones she had bought. Grell was a lady, and she had to keep up to date. The main reason, however, that she had not visited Aliyah Jefferson again, was because Aliyah could talk the hind legs off a donkey. She also liked to fill her speeches with so many names that Grell couldn't keep track. Sighing, Grell shifted her weight to her other foot, knowing that they would be there a while.

"You know who I mean," she continued, fiddling with the white frills that contrasted so strongly with the red on the bodice of her dress. "Tanned skin, which is _so_ out of fashion, and that ridiculously light blonde hair that she always wears in pigtails – she's a grown woman, she shouldn't be wearing pigtails!"

Grell sighed at that, knowing that she herself had been wearing pigtails when Frieda and Bianca had been shopping for maternity dresses.

"But she has the most _darling_ chocolate-brown eyes that work with beautiful greens and browns and – Oh! You're wearing the dress I designed for you. Oh, doesn't it look just beautiful? You sir!" She turned to William, who backed away slightly, clearly worried that she was going to start trying for his measurements again. "Doesn't this lady here look wonderful?"

Grell turned to William, fluttering her red eyelids and smiling, face angled towards the floor as she looked up at him, coyly, from under her lashes. Knowing that William didn't very much like to compliment her, at least in public, Grell was very much looking forwards to what he had to say. Patiently, she waited, tapping her foot and raising an eyebrow when he seemed as though he would never open his mouth to talk. How rude of him, Grell thought. It wasn't like she was asking for a kiss in the middle of a crowded room. She was just asking for a compliment. And she hadn't even been the one to ask.

"Yes," William finally managed, looking as if he were choking. Did he really think she looked that bad? Grell sighed, worry tinging her features. "Grell does look very beautiful, I think."

Smiling, Grell turned around in triumph, though still a little disappointed. Was it not the man's place to compliment his lady in whatever she wore? Sighing, Grell lifted an arm and rubbed at the lace flowers covering it, her pale skin poking through between the red patterns.

"That idea with the lace sleeves was actually Shu Li's idea," Aliyah carried on, switching the name around until it was first name surname, just as an English name would be said, oblivious to Grell's mood and satisfied once she had got a compliment out of William. "You really must visit her next, after you've given birth to that one." She gestured to Grell's stomach, who didn't argue the fact that there was actually two in it, allowing the woman to believe what she would. It wasn't her she was trying to impress, though she had been trying to impress Lilliana. "You'll know her easily. She's Chinese – very beautiful. Her hair is a touch on the frizzy side, but those brown eyes of hers, they're so warm and friendly! I don't think you could miss her."

Grell nodded, knowing who Aliyah meant. She had often wished to go to Shu's dress shop, but had found herself going to other places that caught her eye first, never quite making it all the way to Shu's. She would, she decided, go there next, once she was out of maternity wear, with two bouncing bundles to take care of. Smiling and nodding, letting a small sight out, Grell leant against William as he finally drew himself closer to her, annoyed at the persistency of Aliyah's chatting. She was so animated when she talked, as well, more and more strands of mousy brown hair falling from the once tidy bun on the back of her head. William was looking at it disapprovingly, and Grell wondered briefly why he didn't look disapprovingly at all the strands of hair covering her face that wouldn't stay in the ponytail, being too short to reach the ribbon she was tying the rest of her hair back with.

Aliyah was still talking, eyes wide and shining and a smile on her face as she recounted tale after tale of different parts of Grell's dress and people who had an input on the different designs out there. Finally, annoyance in her tone, Grell interrupted.

"Aliyah," she snapped, teeth glinting in the light. "William and I really must be going, we are busy today, after all."

"Oh, really?" Aliyah looked disappointed, but Grell couldn't have cared less. Nodding, she turned on her heel, dragging William along with her. Aliyah followed dejectedly to the door of the shop, before waving them off through it. Grell wondered, with the amount of energy and effort she put into everything, how she could possibly be even slightly overweight. She should surely burn all the calories she had. Confusion settling into her mind for a brief spell, Grell carried on walking, ignoring Aliyah's cries. "Goodbye, then, Grell! I hope to see you again!"

"She was just _dreadful_ , Willy-darling," Grell complained, looking towards her man. "She just wouldn't shut up. Even _I_ can't speak for so long. And I don't drop nearly as many names."

"Indeed," William agreed, walking along stiffly, still looking rather annoyed, though he didn't prevent Grell from linking her arm with his when she tried, using the other to link their fingers together. "Although, I must request that we visit no more dress shops. We came out her for the children," he looked down at her stomach and Grell smiled, a reddish tint fluttering to her cheeks. "And we shall carry out exactly what we intended to do with no more interruptions."

"Alright then, Willy-darling," Grell agreed, squeezing his hand and smiling up at him, noticing the bright shine in his eyes as they looked at each other. "I know just the shop."

And with that, Grell turned down another street, dragging William along and entering the shop. It wasn't long before they had everything they needed, using a portal to get it up into Grell's spare room and starting the job on painting the walls. Together, Grell having changed into an old, simple red gown, they painted the room, Grell managing to get the liquid everywhere, including her hair, which annoyed her to no end, whilst William got barely a drop on him at all, which was also infuriating. By the time they had finished, Grell was ready to drop into bed, so after changing into a nightgown, that was exactly what she did, William coming and lying next to her, both falling asleep together.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, only the characters Frieda Irwin, Bianca Shepard, Jorge Payne and this plotline.

Difficult Love Chapter Sixteen

Grell sat at the desk in William's office, bored out of her mind. With William in the same room as her it was almost impossible to procrastinate, William keeping a firm eye on her progress. There was less work for her to do now, William taking Nurse Liz's advice and cutting down her amount of work, and therefore the amount of stress she was likely to be under, but now she was just bored. It wasn't even lunch time, so she couldn't very well say that she was going to get food to eat. Sighing, she rested her head on her hands and thought of the nursery she and William had created instead.

She had easily persuaded William that while there couldn't be too much red in the room, the room still needed to fit in with the theme of the house. Because of this, she had been allowed to paint the shelves and the simple wooden cots with bright red, the bars of the cots contrasting with the small white mattresses in them. The shelves on the walls had been set out in a zig-zag pattern, creating 'V' shapes to hold toys on the walls. Grell had set out a pile of building blocks and the teddy bears that William and the others had bought for her on them. There was a white, short and long bookshelf running between the cots, a soft ball and some more teddies in it, along with two different piles of tiny baby grows, each with funny quotes embroidered on the front, probably Bianca's doing. She liked that sort of thing.

The walls were pale blue, just like William's, though they had no red tapestries hanging on them, making it a calmer atmosphere. The lower half of the wall was panelled with white wood, and the floor was a soft cream carpet, a bright red one set over the top of this, Grell's doing again. She had persuaded William that the carpet she had sitting in her cellar, which was decked out like some sort of safe house, built to survive attack, was much better suited to the nursery, and they had put it there instead. A few pictures of her and William were moved from her afternoon room, some hung on the walls between the cots and a few empty frames were left on the sides, ready for pictures of the children to be put into them.

Now, Grell was sitting wishing to be there, though before she had felt an instinctive need to get away. She passed it off as fear of the colour blue, but really it was fear of being a bad mother. Surrounded by all the baby things, and remembering what she had done to her children when she had gone to fight Sebastian, Grell had paled, thinking only that she would do everything wrong and always endanger her children. It obviously was unlikely to be, as William pointed out later when she had finally voiced her fears to him, as she spent so much time around children and babies. How could she not know what they wanted?

She sighed again, shifting and preparing to talk to William. She was bored out of her mind, even the fun of managing to sneak a red pen past William every time he swapped it for a black one wasn't keeping her occupied now. Moodily, she fiddled with her high pigtails, wondering if she really did look as bad as Aliyah had mentioned on the Saturday, before realising that she didn't care. _She_ thought she looked alright, and that was what mattered. Especially when her overlarge shirt was paired with a tiny red skirt, a brown jumper pulled over that and her back blazer hanging over her chair. She has foregone her red coat that day, mostly out of knowledge that no one would see it. William had told her that he was moving her to his room the day before, knowing full well that he would likely have to argue with her about it.

Closing her pink dusted eyelids and sighing again, she was jolted up by William's voice.

"You have not completed any work for the last five minutes, Grell," he was looking over at her, face blank as she stared back, eyebrows raised. "Are you having an issue with the paperwork?"

"Yes," Grell responded, causing William to sit up straighter and pay more attention, clearly expecting her to be needing help. "It's boring," She said instead. "I want to leave the room."

"That is a shame, Grell," William replied, glancing back down at his own paperwork and completing more of it, before looking back up again when Grell didn't return to work. "You must complete it before five thirty, otherwise you shall have overtime."

" _You're_ going to give me overtime?" Grell sounded incredulous, and her eyebrows crinkled, clearly annoyed at William's words. "You're just like Kelly."

"No," William almost growled, hands tightening on his pen. Clearly he didn't like the comparison, and Grell didn't blame him, though she did think the reaction was a little extreme. Carefully, she got up, coming over to the man. "I'm not."

"Calm down, Willy-darling," she whispered, rubbing his shoulders and feeling how tense they were. Frowning, she worked at them harder, trying to soften him a little and relax him some. "I wasn't being serious. You know I love you, don't you."

"Yes," William's head was angled towards her, and she leaned further towards him, eyes darting to his lips before a small smirk adorned her face. Leaning ever closer, knowing there was a good chance that William would pull away because they were at work, Grell softly connected their lips.

Once again, her heart started beating like crazy, her stomach dancing when she thought of the idea of William loving her, not just being with her because he had to be. He _loved_ her. Smiling, feeling his tongue at her lips, she opened her mouth, allowing their tongues to dance. Pulling herself closer, tasting coffee on William and knowing he could taste the cinnamon and strawberries in her mouth, she purred in approval, running her fingers through his hair. She could hear the deep hum in his throat, and knew he was happy.

Finally, a few minutes later, she pulled back, finished with kissing him, knowing he would likely be furious if he had missed too much time for work. She was still straddling his lap, his hands on her hips, pulling her closer, and she smiled as she looked down at him. He leaned up to kiss her quickly on the lips twice more, before, pulling away and pushing at her, clearly ready to get back to work. Sighing, Grell ran her fingers through his hair as she left, knowing that he would soon be fixing his hair with that comb he kept with him at all times.

By the time she returned to the desk she was sitting at, facing the plain walls, Grell had spotted William reaching into his pocket, and by the time she had turned around his hair was already back to its perfectly neat condition, no signs of Grell's hands in it at all. In fact, despite the crumpling that should have happened to his suit, he looked as if no fun activity had been carried out, and Grell's eyebrows furrowed. How did he manage to keep himself tidy, when she looked like she had been caught in a hurricane? It wasn't fair.

A sharp tapping on the door interrupted her thoughts, before a man with tidy brown hair and green eyes, along with thin, black framed glasses stepped in, suit just as perfect as William's. He wasn't someone that Grell recognised, and he raised an eyebrow at her, clearly disapproving, as he walked in. Perhaps he thought she was in there to be disciplined. Though it was common knowledge that William was a father in the Dispatch building now. She supposed that it was less common knowledge, at least among the higher ups, that she was Grell Sutcliff. Most people suspected the pregnant lady to be in General Affairs, and there was indeed a woman who was pregnant there, and a pregnant nurse in the hospital, only one of which who would reveal who the father was. Maybe they thought the nurse was Grell Sutcliff? She was only well known among those who dished out punishments, after all.

"Excuse me for interrupting, Mr Spears" he said, voice monotone and strict, just as William's was. "But I have a message for you."

William looked up and lowered his pen, eyes resting on the other with one eyebrow raised. Grell's eyes darted between the two, body still facing the wall, as she wondered what was happening.

"Please, share," William said, folding his hands upon the desk and sitting up straighter, before deciding that then was as good a time as any to push his glasses up.

"Of course," the brunette man dipped his head, before straightening up and eyeing Grell suspiciously again, clearly uncertain if she should hear the news. He cleared his throat, before continuing. "The Management division, namely Mr Jay Martin and his partner Miss Evangeline Gonzales, Mr Nathan Jordan and his partner Miss Clara Johns, Mr Louis Webb and his husband Mr Zac Butler and Mr Patrick Ward and his partner Miss Aubrey Lindsay, would like to issue an invitation to you to a dance this evening, if it is not too much trouble, in regards to congratulating you and your partner on your soon-to-be parenthood. Your partner may bring along two friends if she wishes, and she may be allowed to leave at any time, depending on or not she grows weary."

William and Grell looked at the man for a minute, before Grell broke into a grin, teeth glinting in the light. She was desperate to attend a ball, and she had had one ball gown made by Aliyah for her maternity, just in case. She knew exactly what she was going to wear and why, and she knew exactly who she would be taking with her.

"A dance?" She asked, eyes glinting excitedly. "As in – a dance?"

The man looked at her in distaste for a minute, one eyebrow raised, before nodding slightly.

"Yes, a dance, sir-" he broke off at Grell's angry glance, correcting himself and pushing his glasses up nervously. It made Grell smile to see that he and William shared the same nervous gestures. "Miss, rather. Though I cannot see how it could relate to you. Mr Spears is with a Grell Sutcliff, is he not?"

"Indeed, Mr Perry," William agreed, pushing his glasses up again, face not changing at all. "And you are talking to her."

"Oh, _William_ ," Grell gushed, pleased to hear her love referring to her as a woman, just as she thought she should be referred to. She turned, revealing her pregnant stomach, and Mr Perry's cheeks grew a little red with embarrassment. "You're so kind to me."

"Indeed," William repeated, making Grell wonder if he had been broken. Maybe he didn't want to go to the dance. That simply would not do, so Grell clasped her hands together and fluttered her eyelashes, pouting her lips together and trying to make a cute face. The effect was probably lost when she opened her mouth to speak and revealed her teeth, she knew, but she couldn't help that she had them. Besides, William liked them, and they were very good for intimidating people with.

"Can we go? Please, please, _please_?" Grell was practically bouncing in her seat, and it appeared that William couldn't say no to her, because he finally sighed and relented his stony gaze, looking down and agreeing. Grell cheered at that, jumping up and rushing over to hug him. Her eyes connected with Mr Perry's over William's shoulder, and she quickly stood up, brushing herself down and composing herself again, a little embarrassed to see the embarrassment playing over the other man's face. If he hadn't turned red, Grell knew, then she wouldn't have flushed pink, instead staying and hugging her love. Next to her, he pushed his glasses up stonily.

"One question," she turned to face Mr Perry, stepping a little closer to him. "Can my friends bring their child? They just adopted her yesterday – she's four, and I'm supposed to be meeting her today. She won't be any trouble, I promise."

"No one can stop you," Mr Perry said, still looking uncomfortable. "Or them, for that matter. I'm sure that no one will object, if she is well behaved."

"Oh, this is _brilliant_ ," Grell spun around on the spot, desperate to leave the room and get all the things she needed doing done. First, she was going to speak with Ronald, Alan, Eric and Jorge, who still didn't know she was carrying two babies. In fact, neither did Frieda and Bianca, having just made a great deal of baby grows that she could use to differentiate between the children, even though she knew that they wouldn't be identical – maybe their hair colours would be different as children, though she would never know until after their birth.

After that, she had a lot of dressing to do. She knew what dress she was going to be wearing of course, along with the makeup and the hairstyle, but did Frieda and Bianca? She thought not, and she knew they were going to need help. Furthermore, she was going to have to convince them to come, probably beg them, but she would do it. And she needed to meet their little girl, Violet McDonald. Apparently, they had let the little girl keep her surname, probably because they were firm believers of knowing where you were from.

Quickly, Grell scurried over to William again, placing a quick peck on his lips and whispering that she would finish her paperwork the day after into his ear, leaving him to sigh as she hurried out of the room, hearing Mr Perry ask Mr Spears if he was going to stop her, to which he replied 'Not if you wish for the both of us to keep our blood within our veins'. She had giggled at that, though Mr Perry had looked rather pale as he had left the room behind her.

It didn't take Grell too long to locate Jorge, him sitting at his desk, black hair going wild and dark fingers tapping on the desk as he thought through his answers to the paperwork. He didn't look up when she waltzed in, but he did when she slammed her palms down onto the desk, hair falling into her face and eyes gleaming happily.

"Guess what," she panted, excitedly. The quick walk – which was as fast as she could be bothered to go whilst carrying the twins – had worn her out, and she felt as though she needed a rest.

"What?" Jorge replied, smiling up at her, freezing it in place when he saw her stomach. This confused Grell, making her eyebrows pull down and her face to look angry, though she wasn't really. Why was he so upset at seeing her pregnant? Maybe he just didn't like children.

"I'm carrying twins," she exclaimed delightedly, inspecting his desk before sitting on it, glorious legs on show and crossed over each other. "Isn't that wonderful? And William and I are going to a dance tonight!"

Jorge pulled a face, a glint of disgust written in his eyes. Confused, Grell studied him a moment, before frowning, daring to ask what was wrong.

"I just don't think William is the right one for you, Grell," he replied, face looking both worried and sad. "He doesn't treat you how you deserve to be treated."

Astonishment showed upon Grell's face, before she frowned at him, anger taking over. How dare he say that to her? William hadn't made her cry because of any major reason in the whole time they had spent together, in love, and she had only cried really because of her messed up pregnancy hormones. Annoyed, she pulled herself off the desk and leant closer to the man, clearly not impressed by what he said.

"And who gave you the right to question my relationship with William?" she asked, eyebrow twitching and teeth glinting, her eyes opening manically wide. Normally she got on so well with Jorge, but whenever William came up in conversation he would become moody and blank, clearly unimpressed with the other man. "Why do you dislike him so much? Did he do something to you? Or are you just being an arse?"

"I don't dislike him, particularly," Jorge replied, seemingly disinterested in the conversation. "I just think that you could do better. Surely you could find someone who appreciates you more and isn't embarrassed to be seen with you? Who doesn't make you cry and who laughs with you, instead of twitches his lip a little?"

" _What_?" Grell shrieked. Jorge seemed to have been watching William's face very closely to have noticed his lip twitches when happy, but clearly had no other skill in reading the man's face. William's eyes were the key, Grell new, displaying his emotion when the rest of his face seemed disinclined to move. Angrily, Grell ran her fingers through her fiery locks, trying to calm herself down. "You seem to have been watching him closely. Do you want him for yourself, or something like that?"

" _What_?" It was Jorge's turn to feel incredulous, two dark spots burning on his chocolate coloured cheeks. He didn't look happy, but neither did he look angry, confusion sparkling in his eyes, along with a cold sort of distaste that was always there whenever William's name came up. "Of course I don't. I just don't think that Mr Spears is the right man for you, Grell. I'm sorry if you don't like that."

"Yes, well," Grell pulled back, still scowling, as she fiddled with her hair. Knowing that she was probably overreacting, Grell span on her heel, wanting to get out of the room before Jorge made her really angry. The babies were kicking inside of her with a vengeance, too, aware that she was agitated, causing the same feelings of distress in them. "You can think what you like. It isn't going to change anything. I'm going to find Ronnie, Alan and Eric. They're likely to be far more supportive of my little ones, here."

With that she span around, heels stabbing into the floor as she stalked away, clacking loudly. She knew it was lunch time by the time she had finished arguing with Jorge, so she went down to the cafeteria, knowing that Alan and Eric would be there, along with Ronald.

It wasn't long before she reached the cafeteria, though she couldn't say that her temper had much improved. The babies were still kicking, annoyingly, and she was still fuming at what Jorge had said. How dare he insinuate that she and William were not perfect for each other? He was the father of her children, and he loved her. And he did allow her to be with him and touch him and hold him. He was just not as much for it in public as Jorge clearly was. Shaking her head, Grell plastered a smile on her face as she walked through the door, easily spotting the two-toned hair of Ronald.

"Ronnie," she cried, rushing forwards as best she could, though looking more like a waddling cat – she couldn't deny that she still slunk about, it was just less graceful now – and throwing her arms around his neck. She wasn't entirely sure why she had done that, but decided later that it was because she needed some form of comfort due to her confrontation with the man that was supposed to be her friend. "Guess what?"

Laughing a little, Ronald unfastened her arms from around his neck and stepped back, eyes bright and a smile on his face. It widened when he looked at her stomach, and Grell knew, just knew, that Ronald was much more adoring of her children than Jorge, even before they were born. He just seemed excited for them to come along, clearly not being able to wait for the little critters. Sometimes, he still pestered her to be a godfather, though Grell largely suspected it was because it would make him look kind and compassionate in the eyes of the ladies, and that was always a bonus.

"I don't know, Grell-Sempai. What?"

"I'm having twins!" Ronald smiled wider at that, looking down at her stomach and shifting his face until he looked thoughtful. "Though I don't know whether they're going to be boys or girls."

"Or both," Ronald reminded Grell cheerfully, before sitting down on a table, Alan walking over and looking disapproving, while Eric was looking suspiciously jittery behind him. Maybe the blonde brute had done something wrong again in Alan's eyes. It seemed likely – he was always in the wrong for some reason or another. "But I thought you said that you were going to have girls? Mother's intuition and all that?"

"But of course they're going to be girls in _body_ ," Grell replied, feeling a little put out. Did no one else view it the way she did? Some people were born with the wrong body for their soul, and if that happened, you had to let them be who they wanted. She, for one, had been born with the wrong body for the woman that she was, but then again, fate had taken pity on her and given her an ability she never realised that she had possessed before. Admittedly, that did mean that all the killing out of jealousy she had done with Angelina had been pointless, but that was null and void now. William had got her off of a major death penalty, and she was free to go now. "But their souls… I feel that one is going to be a boy in their soul."

"If that's the case," Ronald said, resting one elbow on his knee and tapping his chin with his index finger. "I have to be allowed to teach them flirting tips, right?"

"They'll most likely have better technique if you teach them, Ronald," Alan piped in, a drink of water in hand whilst the man next to him had some coffee. Eric was still looking a little pale, as if something major had happened, and Alan looked stubborn. Perhaps Alan had some news? Grell raised an eyebrow as she looked between the two, before tuning back into the conversation. "If Eric teaches them, the second that they hear that someone is pregnant, they will most certainly become terrified out of their wits."

"Pregnant?" Ronald asked, looking at Alan wide eyed. Clearly, the young Shinigami didn't like the idea of being a father, and Grell didn't blame him. If you were as young as Ronald, which was rather young as Shinigami went, then you would probably want to live a bit of your life before discovering that you were going to be a mother or a father. "No way. I'd faint if I found out a lady friend of mine was pregnant. That would be their reference, yes-sir-ee."

"Well," Alan looked a little put out, before pushing his glasses up and brushing his slightly shaggy hair away from his face. "Eric appears to take things like this better than you then, Ronald."

"Yeah?" Ronald asked, looking at Alan with interest. Grell couldn't help the same expression rising to her face. Why did Alan keep mentioning it? Then again, he had been looking a little peaky around lunchtimes recently, and he was starting to look a little bigger around the waist. Grell had just attributed it to the loss of the Thorns. But what if…? No. That was impossible, surely. "You seem to know a lot about it? Any reason behind that?"

"Well, of course," Alan replied, a faint red tinge appearing on his cheeks as both curious faces turned towards him. "I happen to be pregnant. It turns out, I was given fertility through the cure to the Thorns."

"Oh," Grell looked at Alan's stomach in interest, eyes lighting up when she realised that it meant her children would be having playdates all the time with Alan's. "Really? Do you know what it's going to be? Do you have any name ideas? Do you think you're carrying more than one?"

Eric appeared to be gaining his colour back as Grell gushed on, fingers fiddling with her hair as her bad mood over Jorge evaporated instantly. Alan was looking a little overwhelmed by Grell's continuous string of questions and Ronald was laughing to himself, fiddling with the knife that he carried around, polishing it on his blazer.

"I only just found out about the pregnancy yesterday, Grell-sempai," Alan responded, looking a little embarrassed. He reached out to press his hand to Eric's, before letting go, not much one for displaying his affection openly. "And I only just told Eric a few minutes ago, which I admit was wrong, but I myself was worried about his reaction."

"So Eric's the father huh?" Grell asked, already knowing that that was the case. She eyed Eric up before turning back to Alan. "They're going to be some pretty _big_ babies that you're giving birth to."

"Yes, well," Alan murmured, looking uncomfortable. He took a sip of his water, before reaching over to pluck some celery from Eric's tray that was going uneaten. "I believe that you're children aren't going to be the smallest of children either. Mr Spears is six foot tall, is he not?"

"I guess," Grell replied, thinking of her handsome man. He was taller than her, yes, and that made her feel more comfortable with him, more protected and loved, somehow. Eyes crinkling with amusement, she mentally calculated the size differences between the four of them as couples. "And I'm five foot seven, so I happen to be five inches shorter than William. You, on the other hand, are tiny, Alan."

"I'm five foot four," Alan argued, pulling himself up taller and looking uncomfortable again. "That is a perfectly reasonable height for a man."

"A teenager, maybe," Eric cut in, he himself slouching down over the table, eyes returning to Alan's stomach every time he stopped talking to either Grell or Ronald. "Bu' no' fer a man. Even Knox over there is taller than yer, ain't he? An' he's younger than yer."

"Sometimes I remember why I don't like you very much, Eric," Alan said mildly, reaching over to collect more vegetables that had gone uneaten on Eric's plate. Pointing a celery stick at Eric, he continued. "Besides, you are six foot three, and therefore a giant of a man."

"So there's a foot's difference between you two, huh?" Ronald asked, having watched their conversation in silence, chin resting on his hand. "Yep. They're gonna be some big babies. Can I be the godfather – oh, look, there's Lara."

Without waiting for a reply, Ronald sped off, hurrying after a dark skinned woman with shoulder length, braided hair that shined purple in the like, much like a magpie's feathers would shine different colours. She was pretty short, but eye-catching, and it was no surprise Ronald was interested in her. Watching the boy shoot off, Grell chuckled, patting her stomach and smiling as the babies finally started to stop their excessive movement again. It appeared they liked Ronald, or hated him. Either way, they moved a lot when he was around.

"So Grell," Eric started, causing Grell to turn back to face the other two once her friend vanished, Lara smiling at him from over her shoulder. "Wha' did yer come ta tell us, exactly? We know yer supposed to be in boss's office."

"Oh," Grell flipped her hair back, a grin stretching her features and her hand raising up, nails ready for inspection. "I escaped. Mostly to get ready for a dance being thrown in William and I's honour, though also to tell you the news."

"What news?" Alan looked up from his water, having previously been staring down at it as if it would start giving him the answers to all his life's problems. "Has something happened?"

"I've found out how many children I'm having," trilling, she flew to her feet, wobbling a little on her heels as her large stomach almost tipped her forwards. Laughing it off, she started walking away throwing the last snatches of conversation over her shoulder. "I'm having twins."

She was gone before the other two could respond, but that was the way she felt it should be. They didn't need to hear about her happiness now, they had their own to be dealing with. Alan was pregnant, which was good news to her. Her little girls would be spending so much time around the Humphries-Slingby child that they would be the best of friends. They would always be together, she realised, and it would be cute and adorable and –

She had practically started squealing as she walked down the hall, hands flying to her cheeks. She could just imagine her little ones crawling around as babies, playing with Eric and Alan's children, the blondes, brunettes, redheads and black haired babies all milling around together. It would be the cutest thing that anyone had ever seen. Cheeks flushing in happiness and excitement, Grell exited the Shinigami Dispatch building, heading straight for Frieda's house, Bianca and Violet also living there now.

Happiness bubbled through Grell when she thought of their daughter. Violet McDonald, the older sister, by all means except blood, of her children. Violet would protect them and love them, and they would be happy together. Skipping along, knowing she didn't look great because of the pregnancy, Grell grinned, ready to meet the girl that would become crucial to her children's life. Oh, and force, threaten and coerce Violet's parents into coming to the ball with her.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note** – I have been asked what a 'baby grow' is, so for all those out there who don't know, a baby grow is one of those things that you put babies in, like a onesie. It is a suit with arms and legs and poppers to do it up. I know it doesn't really fit in with the Victorian style, as the Victorians' put both male and female babies into those gowns, but having seen a lot of images of those gowns, I have come to the conclusion that one, Grell would be very unlikely to dress her children in them, and two, they all look the same, so you would be unable to tell children apart. For some reason, all the gowns were white – maybe it was to symbolise innocence of the children or something, but I cannot fathom it myself. I don't like wearing white, and would prefer black ones, but that was a colour for mourning, so that wouldn't do for babies at all. Anyway, that's what a baby grow is for those who don't know, and why they're in this Victorian story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, just Violet McDonald, Frieda Irwin, Bianca Shepard and the story line.

Difficult Love Chapter Seventeen

"Mama, Mummy," a young voice came from the other side of the door Grell was standing on causing Grell to grin, before the curtain shifted next to her and a little girl's face came into view, popping down when her green eyes met Grell's. "There's a strange lady outside and she's smiling at me. It's scary."

"A strange lady?" Came Frieda's voice, a warm tone to it that Grell had only ever heard around herself and Bianca. Clearly, the little girl had already wormed her way into Frieda's heart. "Is she wearing red?"

No reply came, but a nod must have been given, because the door opened and Frieda was wearing a smile, hair piled up into an elegant updo under a red hat with a white bow on it, the same white gown with the red diamonds on it hung over her slender frame as when William had confessed his love to Grell, making Grell smile wider. It wasn't long before she had been invited into the house, a large bag carried in her arms, holding the clothes she was going to wear to the dance, and following Violet and Frieda through the house and into the garden on the hunt for Bianca.

Frieda had pulled her gloves on as they stepped outside, the air a little chilly. Small spits and spots of rain made Frieda pull out her brown umbrella, though Violet looked perfectly happy to run about in the rain, calling out 'mummy' to Bianca when they drew close to the woman, her white hair pulled into a messy bun under a green hat and the green dress on from when William had confessed his love. Grell supposed that the dresses carried special meaning to the two woman as well, as that was the day of their first date.

"Mummy," Violet was running forwards. Grell watched with curiosity as the little girl reached Bianca and throw her arms around the woman's leg, head already reaching the white haired woman's stomach. She was a tall child, Grell admitted, but not only that, Bianca was a tiny woman. "Mummy," she panted, eyes wide. "Red lady over there was smiling at me. She was going to _eat_ me."

"Really?" Bianca acted surprised, eyes widening and her jaw dropping as she bent down a little, face drawing level with the child's. "How do you know? Did she say so?"

"No," seriously, the little girl shook her head, a few strands of gingery hair escaping from the braid that she had it tied in. "She was smiling and her teeth were _pointy_."

Laughing a little, Grell came closer to the child, crouching down to reach the same height as her. She was a pretty child, Grell knew, with tanned skin, despite the ginger hair and pretty round eyes. Her face was soft, as a child's should be, and her eyes glinted with interest, rather than fear, when her eyes landed on Grell's teeth again. Curiously, she reached out to touch Grell, hand landing on Grell's stomach, snatching away suddenly when the baby kicked. Eyes shimmering and wide, she looked up at Grell with concern.

"I wasn't going to eat you, honey," Grell smiled, sitting down on the floor and knowing she would regret it later. Standing up was going to be a challenge, after all, as her back and ankles had started to ache a little. "I was just smiling, I promise. My teeth are like this all the time, even when I'm sleeping."

" _Really_?" Eyes wide, Violet looked up at Grell, before creeping closer to her and sitting down, small hand reaching for Grell's red hair, which was still tied up in pigtails. "What about this?" she asked, small fingers tugging slightly. "It's always red, too?"

"Always," Grell agreed, waving at Frieda and Bianca as they stood under the umbrella, which had become unnecessary. The sun was shining, now, and the tiny spots of rain had vanished, much like water in the desert.

"If you don't eat people," Violet asked, crinkling her eyebrows in confusion and poking her tongue out a little, clicking her little black boots on the porch as she thought through her question. "Why is your tummy so big?"

Appalled at their adopted daughter's manners, Bianca and Frieda spoke out, reprimanding her and quite successfully teaching her the correct way to address people for the future. It was lucky Violet had got Grell while she was in a good mood, otherwise the redhead might not have been entertained by the question, instead bursting into tears over how 'fat' she was getting. Gently, Grell patted Violet's leg, fingers making a sliding sound over the pink ruffles of Violet's underskirt, her bodice and overskirt in a pretty cream colour to match the stone floor she was sitting on. A large bow was tied around her waist, and she sat pulling at it as she looked down in shame from her parent's chiding.

"My tummy is big because I have babies in it." Grell replied, her voice soft so as to ensure the happiness of Violet. She looked pretty upset at being told off, and Grell didn't want to be known for making children cry. Gently, she took Violet's white gloved hand and pressed it to her stomach. "Can you feel them kicking?"

Violet nodded, hand curling a little when she felt a kick. She giggled, before struggling to her feet and standing with her hands on her hips, her pink hat with the white bow sitting wonky on her head. Grell couldn't help grinning at the spunky little girl she was.

"So you _did_ eat them." She cried, pointing an accusing finger at Grell. "But you _promised_ you didn't eat people."

"I didn't eat them," Grell assured her, reaching out her hands so that Bianca and Frieda could help her up. Struggling to her feet, her legs scraped a little on the stone she was struggling up of, and a white line ran its way down her leg. Grumbling a little, Grell rubbed at it, before turning back to Violet. "They're growing. One day, they'll be outside of me, and then there will be other little girls for you to play with."

"To play with?" Violet looked a little disgruntled by this fact, as if she didn't like the idea. "I don't play. I _adventure_." Violet tilted her head to the side a little, like a cat who was watching a mouse. "How do you know they're girls?"

"I just do," Grell assured her, before straightening her hat, which caused the little girl to run off, crying out about the 'spiky monster' who was trying to 'make her neat to death'. Grell giggled a little at that, turning towards Bianca as Frieda ran after the little figure, scooping her up and carrying her after Grell and Bianca as they turned back towards the house, Grell telling Bianca that the child they now had was a very adorable one, and that she was glad to have met her. Bianca thanked her, before opening the back door and allowing Grell into the house, inquiring as to why Grell was visiting at two o'clock when work finished at six.

"Well, that's the thing," Grell pressed her fingers together anxiously, eyes pleading with Bianca as Frieda joined them in the room, Violet playing with a doll in the room next to them, shrieking about how the 'nasty humans' were coming for her, and that she and Shini were going to have to find Gami and get out of there, quickly as could be. "I have been invited to a dance, and was wondering if you'd like to come?"

"Absolutely not," Frieda said, setting down her gloves and frowning at Grell, eyes darting to the side to check on Violet, who was now rolling on the sofa, dress hitched up around her legs as her little black boots waved in the air. "We have to look after Violet. You know that, Grell."

"But-" Grell began, excitement in her voice as she tried to point out that Violet was allowed to be there, before being cut off by Bianca.

"We really would love to go Grell," she looked apologetic, white strands of hair falling into her eyes and making her blink, before she brushed them away. "But Violet comes first. You'll be like that, when the babies come along."

"Baby one and two would be the main attraction at a dance," Grell retorted, fingers still tapping together. "Besides, Violet has been allowed to come. Don't tell me you don't want to go now."

"Violet may be allowed to come," Bianca allowed, sitting down next to Grell and fiddling with the folds of her green dress. "But do you really think she'd want to go, Grell? I admit, you're like a sister to me, but there are some things that are more important than you're dances."

"Humph," Grell turned her head away, before slipping a pout onto her face and making puppy-dog eyes at the two ladies, resisting, with great difficulty, the smile that was about to pop up onto her face with their obvious weakening resolve. While she was doing this, with pleases thrown in for good measure, a little tapping could be heard, before a small voice piped up.

"Violet wants to dance." All heads turned towards her and she put her hands behind her back, looking down and dragging her foot across the ground in an odd sort of pattern. "I'll be good. Promise."

Sighing, Bianca bent down, face to face with the little girl once more. "Are you sure, Violet? You're not just saying that because Auntie Grell wants to?"

Grell's grin widened as she was referred to as 'Auntie'. It was nice to know that she had a special connection with the child that wasn't hers, even if it wasn't hers. Her friends, she supposed, always knew what she wanted, and they proved that again by allowing her to be the child's aunt, without her even having to ask.

"No," Violet stated, eyebrows pulling down. "Violet wants to be pretty and dance with Auntie Grell and babies."

Sighing through her nose and nodding, Frieda agreed, before swinging the child back up into her arms and dragging her upstairs, telling her that she was going to have to be very good and not get the dress ruined at all, in any way. Looking very serious, Violet nodded, clinging to the silver haired woman for support as she wrapped her little legs around the woman in white's waist. Triumphantly, Grell picked up the bag she had been carrying before and headed towards Bianca's bedroom, already knowing exactly what to pick out for the white haired woman to wear.

….

"Are you sure it's not too little?" Bianca asked, staring at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a white gown with a military style bodice, golden lines running over the brown velvet of the material, the edges trimmed with gold embroidery as the tassels hung to midway down the dress, the bustle also made out of the brown velvet, white silk falling out from below the knee as an underskirt. She had white slippers on and gold earrings in her ears, with her white hair piled on top of her head neatly, Grell having managed to tame the stuff with a golden ribbon weaving its way through it. Her hands were covered by cream coloured leather gloves and her eyes were shaded with golden shadow, rosy rouge on her cheeks and full lips painted pink. In Grell's eyes she looked adorable, but the expression on her face told her that Bianca thought otherwise. "I normally wear more makeup. Though I do love what you've done to my hair. However did you tame it?"

"Magic," Grell said, turning the woman around to face her instead of the mirror. "And yes. I'm sure it's perfect."

"Mummy pretty!" An excited squeal ran through the room, and before they knew it, Violet had thrown herself at Bianca, little hands gripping the white material of the small woman's dress. "Is Violet pretty?"

"Yes, Violet," Bianca assured her, looking the little girl up and down. "You look wonderful."

She wasn't lying, either. The ginger hair of the little girl was piled up on her head, kept in place with some small red bows. Her gown was mostly white, the bodice trimmed with a single line of red running down the centre, the sleeves wide and frilled at the cuffs, a band of red rimming them as they were held together by pearl buttons. Her overskirt was white, the material at the front hitched up so that it only reached the knee, trimmed with white frills and a red band, just like the cuffs of the dress. To mid-shin ran a red underskirt, her little white stockings just visible underneath and a pair of brown, lace up boots on her feet. Her hands were covered by gloves and her little glasses sat perfectly on her nose, no untidiness about her at all. Grell clapped her hands together when she saw the colour the child was wearing. It suited her so well, and made her look like a flame.

This, Grell realised, could be true. One day, Violet may be a flame, dancing and beautiful, but dangerous all the same. If she followed Grell's instructions, Grell knew, the little girl could become an enchanting, dangerous thing, and in her eyes it was much better than what else the girl could become. She might become a violet, just like her name suggested, and then she would be in trouble. She would be beautiful, yes, but delicate, standing there alone until someone came along and crushed her, instead of moving about and embracing everything in her firm, fiery grip, only able to be put out with a large, strong force, just the same way the redhead was. Narrowing her eyes, Grell committed the sight of the little girl in her gown to memory, hoping that her children would be just as bright and beautiful, knowing that they would be. They were _her_ children, after all.

"What about Auntie Grell?" she asked, drawing the little girl's attention towards her. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Yes," Violet nodded vigorously, eyes dancing over Grell's outfit and lighting up when she saw they were wearing the same colour. She held out the skirt of her dress, smiling up at Grell. "Match," she said, before walking over to the bed and sitting on it. "It's pretty."

"Mmm," Grell hummed, inspecting herself in the mirror. "I quite agree, Honey."

Green eyes danced over her gown, the bodice cutting off fairly low on the chest, the sleeves that covered only the shoulders made of white lace. Her underskirt was a cherry red, beautiful and quilted slightly, a wide, upside down 'V' of white lace marking out the waterfall of the overskirt, which bubbled over the bustle and trailed behind her, gold, velvet roses stitched to the side of her dress to mark decadence and beauty. The material seemed to flow off of her stomach, the waistline an empire one, so that it fitted her with ease.

Around her neck a string of pearls beamed, white silk gloves reaching to her elbows, her wrists decorated with gold bands and some more gold bands running around her head, yellow flowers woven into the braid her hair was in. Her eyes were painted with shimmering gold, just like Bianca's, but hers were lined with black, wings in place to make her eyes pop and the green in them to stand out even more than they had before. Her lips were red, sparkling with glitter, and her skin was powdered perfectly. Looking at herself, Grell knew that if she wasn't the star in William's eye that night, then something would have gone very, very wrong. Stunning was the only word to describe her that she could find, and if William didn't think so, she knew he was either lying or stupid. Or both.

"What 'bout Mama?" Violet asked, her little head turning toward Frieda, who was still dressed in her red and white gown. "What's she gonna wear?"

"Oh," Frieda looked a little startled, before walking over to the wardrobe and rummaging around in it, finally producing a pretty lilac and white gown. "I was thinking, maybe this?"

The bodice was white, the long sleeves looking very tidy and the neckline creating a 'V' shape, grey, velvet lapels sticking out. The white overskirt fell to mid-thigh, pulling back into the bustle and falling to the floor behind her, revealing the quilted lilac underskirt at the sides and front of the dress. With it, she pulled out some white gloves, along with a creamy, lacy parasol and some golden earrings, a gold tiara being added to the accessories, ready to be paired with a beautiful silver updo. Grell clapped her hands, before waiting for the woman to get changed and do her makeup excitedly, jumping up and down with jitters as she knew that William would be on the doorstep soon, ready to escort her and her friends to the party.

Just as Frieda returned to the party, a bell sounded at the door, and Violet rushed out the room, before her worried sounding voice called up to the trio.

"Mama, Mummy," she was running towards them, up the stairs, making all three adults in the room worry about her tripping over her dress. Carefully, Bianca scooped the girl up, annoyed at how awkward it was to carry a little girl who was almost half the size of her. "There's a meanie at the door!"

"A meanie?" Bianca asked, patting the girl on the head and shushing her, before starting down the stairs, Grell and Frieda following them. "How did you know?"

"He was all big and he was making angry faces." She placed a blank expression on her face to demonstrate, making Grell giggle as she saw it over Bianca's shoulder. "And he was wearing pretty clothes. I think he's maybe an Earl."

"Did he have black hair, Violet, Sweetie?" Grell cooed, pulling her braid over her shoulder and looking Violet in the eyes. "And was he very tall? Did he look like he was angry, hmm?"

"Don't know," the child retorted, picking at a loose thread on her mother's shoulder. "He wore black and his hair was all shiny and sticky. It didn't move at all."

"Oh, Honey," Grell trilled, flipping her hand to indicate her flippancy. "That was just Uncle William. He's the daddy of these two, and I'm the mummy." Grell indicated her belly, which made Violet stare at her in interest as Frieda reached the door and opened it, tittering slightly when William heard Violet's next words.

"Meanie's a daddy?" She looked honestly confused, as if she couldn't work out what was happening. "But he's so mean."

"William isn't mean," Grell reassured the girl as she was lowered to the ground. Grell walked forwards to meet William as he watched the child, who was hiding behind Bianca's legs in her little gown, eyes wide as she stared at him. "He's very nice when he wants to be, aren't you _darling_?"

"Quite," William agreed, kissing Grell on the cheek and making her smile behind her hand when she saw the faint tinge of colour to his cheeks. He stepped back to get a good look at her, before offering her his arm. "You look beautiful, Grell."

"Oh, _darling_ ," she trilled, before studying him as well, concluding that the red tie he was wearing, clearly in an effort to match with her, made the black and white of his suit stand out even more. It was fitted and beautiful, and she couldn't deny the fact that he looked stunning. "You look good too. Now, come and say hello to Violet." She dragged the poor man forwards, before bending down to Violet's height and tugging William down with her. "Violet, this is Uncle William."

"Auntie Grell says you're a daddy, but I don't believe her." Violet's gloved hands still clutched at Bianca's dress, whose hand's wound into the little girl's hair worriedly, clearly thinking that she would offend the man. "You're not very nice. And you do kisses." She crinkled her nose, eyes screwing up with her face. "Kisses are nasty. Shini says so."

"And who is Shini?" William asked, causing Grell to gasp. The way he said it, voice silky and eyes light, made him seem as if he had plenty of experience with children. He didn't even look wary around her, though he was clearly a little nervous, as he hadn't yet let go of Grell. Happily, amazed at her revelation of William's ability with children, Grell watched the exchange with wide eyes.

"Shini is my friend," Violet told him, letting go of Bianca's dress and fiddling with her own, though looking slightly less daunted. "She's very clever. She says I'll be a Reaper like Mummy one day."

"Shini does sound clever," William allowed, eyes darting to his watch and checking the time. Satisfied that they had enough before they had to head out, he turned back to the little girl. "Does she say anything else?"

"She says boys are yucky," Seriously, Violet looked up at William as he stood up, before reaching forward and tugging on his trousers. "Are you listening to me, mister?"

"Of course," he assured her, gloved hands patting her head before falling back by his sides. "Shini is certainly right. Boys are yucky. You should definitely listen to her."

"Shini says that sometimes, boys are okay." Violet admitted, bowing her head, before reaching up to grab Grell's hand. "But only if they're Auntie Grell's daddy."

"William isn't Auntie Grell's daddy," Grell laughed, voice warm as she squeezed Violet's hand, turning around and dragging both out the door, ready to go to the dance. "William is Auntie Grell's love. He's your Uncle William."

"Uncle William?" Violet asked, little fingers wriggling a little in Grell's hand, before Grell finally let her go and she hurried to keep up, little legs working as Frieda and Bianca followed behind, eyes always on their child but low voices talking happily together. "Okay. Uncle William's are okay, then."

"Quite right," Grell replied, smiling at the child before bending down, causing William and Violet to stop walking. "Now, Violet sweetie, why don't you go and talk to Mummy and Mama for a while? Uncle William and Auntie Grell want to talk."

Violet nodded, before scurrying off behind the two, leaving William and Grell to walk together, neither talking but both enjoying the other's company. It wasn't long before they reached the door to the dance, light pouring out of it as they came closer, seeing three men and three women in the doorway, clearly the hosts of the dance. They smiled as Grell and William came closer, each calling out a greeting and standing back as the group of five entered the large foyer.

…

"Mr Spears, Miss Sutcliff, welcome to our house," a man with curling golden hair and glasses on spoke up, tanned and looking very handsome in his tuxedo, a tiny woman with a yellow silk gown on, golden stripes of lace running across the front of the skirt, the off the shoulders gown trimmed with red roses here and there. Her waist was tiny, her hands covered by yellow silk gloves and a pearl necklace was around her neck. Her ginger hair was pulled up into a bun, a hat with red flowers sitting on top and pearls falling from her ears. "I am Mr Jay Martin, and this is my partner, Miss Evangeline Gonzales. We felt it would be nice to invite you to celebrate your soon to be parenthood."

"Indeed," the tiny ginger lady agreed, face crinkling into a friendly smile. Next to her, a brown haired man with glasses, who was taller than both her and the golden haired man, turned and smiled, seeming even more intelligent and unable to handle himself well in social situations than the man standing next to Grell. "Along with Mr Nathan Jordan, here, and his partner Miss Clara Johns."

Miss Clara Johns didn't say anything to Grell, just looked at her with a dark eyebrow raised, before pushing up her glasses and tossing her loose black hair. She was wearing a smart white gown with long sleeves, the lapels made of blue velvet and the bustle trimmed with more of the blue material, lines of it running over the different folds of the skirt. Her hands were covered by white silk and her earrings had glass beads hanging from them, a blue ribbon fixed through her hair, running down like streaks of blue in the night sky. She was truly beautiful, and Grell couldn't help but feel as if she had to get away from the woman, jealousy curling in her stomach when she thought of how William could be staring at her. But William didn't seem at all affected, his eyes passing straight over the attractive woman to the two men, standing together, behind her.

They introduced themselves as Louis Webb and Zac Butler, Louis making Grell look between him and the woman in confusion. They looked the same, save for the more angular features to the man. He didn't look very tidy, but Grell supposed he must have been part of management, and there must have been a reason he was there, the same as the man standing a little taller than him, skin caramel in colour and hair black and styled fancily, his suit bright and colourful, if a little gaudy. They both seemed to be pleased to see that there was the possibility for male pregnancy, and Grell didn't blame them. They must have thought that they would have to adopt if they were to be a family, and most Reapers weren't allowed to adopt, especially if they worked very long hours. Most in management worked very long hours indeed, Grell knew, mostly from realising how late William returned some nights.

Finally, standing next to them, was another couple, a tall man with brown hair and a friendly look about him, next to a pretty, brown skinned girl with her darker brown hair tied into many braids, some woven with pink roses. Her dress was pink too, hanging off the shoulders, the short sleeves made of lace. The pink overskirt opened over the front of the dress to reveal the white, ruffled underskirt, and her hands were covered in white gloves, a fan clutched in them. She was looking a little uneasily at William, but seemed nice enough, especially when she smiled at Grell, introducing herself as Aubrey Lindsay and explaining that the man next to her was Patrick Ward.

Thanking their hosts, Grell and William stepped in, Frieda and Bianca following them, Violet, looking a little daunted, behind them. Together, they walked inside, hands clasped. Before long, they were standing in a large ballroom, dresses of oranges, reds, yellows, and blues and greens all mingling together, a little purple elsewhere and a scattering of white. All different hair-colours were mingling about too, pale and dark browns, blacks, blondes and gingers, along with some more unusual colours, such as lilac and blue. Grell, however, was the only one in the room with bright red hair.

When the music started up, she and William easily started dancing, Bianca and Frieda left to their own devices. She pulled herself as close as she could to William, and they danced together, fingers interlocking and faces close as they swooped around the room. She had never known he was such a good dancer, his feet moving deftly around the floor as he swirled her round, paying careful mind to the fact that she was pregnant, knowing what would tire her out and what wouldn't, and seeming to guess that her back and ankles hurt.

When she was finally tired, around twenty minutes later, he pulled her off of the floor, handing her a glass of water as soon as he found one and nodding at her when she thanked him, gulping the cool liquid down eagerly. After that, she dragged him off into the corner, finding a free loveseat and sitting on it together, her resting her head on his shoulder and him linking their fingers still. Before long, she had looked up at him, and him down at her, before she, lost in the music and the moment, connected their lips, forgetting William's aversion to kissing in public.

It seemed that he too had forgotten, because his lips and tongue danced eagerly with hers, his fingers running through her hair, her pulling him closer and lapping up the attention and his warmth, happy to be with him. Suddenly he pulled away, just as she was getting lost in the kiss, and Grell realised why soon after. A lady from before was tittering at Grell and him over her hand, eyes narrowed at Grell in a manner that made the redhead slightly uncomfortable.

"I don't mean to interrupt, Miss Sutcliff, Mr Spears," she nodded to each, looking for all the world as though she did mean to interrupt to Grell. She narrowed her eyes at the black haired woman, scowling. "But I wish to talk to Miss Sutcliff."

"Fine," Grell agreed, pressing a kiss to William's cheek and pulling away, a little annoyed to be dragged away from her man. Leaving William behind, Grell followed the black haired woman into the crowd, stopping only when she stopped. "What do you want?"

"Nothing much," fiddling with her hair, Clara watched the dancers, before glaring at Grell out of the corner of her eyes. "I was just wondering how far along in your pregnancy you were."

"Hmm?" Grell was confused. She had been pulled out of her kissing session with William for _this_? Sighing, she replied. "Five months, of course, darling."

"Oh," Clara looked a little like she had won the lottery, though her tone was pitying. Grell was more confused than before. "That's such a shame, Miss Sutcliff. I don't think he likes you at all."

"What?" Fury bubbled through Grell, and she narrowed her eyes at Clara. Was she another of the people in the Dispatch Building that was against her and William's relationship? There were still those out there that thought William had lowered himself too far, thinking that she was a slut who slept around, clearly having no true feelings for William. The dark haired man had heard the rumours too, though he never brought them up. She knew he had heard them, though, as when she heard them and tried to act as though she didn't, William's eyebrow twitched in annoyance, and his teeth gritted slightly. She knew he knew she heard them, too, as she was aware that the bounce in her step disappeared after those sorts of comments. Annoyed, Grell turned back to Clara. "What gives you the right to say that?"

"His actions, Miss Sutcliff," Clara retorted quietly, clearly thinking she was the winner of the situation, though Grell wasn't entirely sure what the contest was yet. "You're five months pregnant and Mr Spears hasn't yet asked you to marry him. Obviously he doesn't like you. He's only staying with you for the children, and even them he might learn to hate. They have you in them, after all."

"Don't say that," Grell argued, hands coming to cover her belly protectively, not caring for the sort of words coming out of Clara's mouth. "William loves me. He just hasn't married me because everyone would say that it isn't worth it. They all think I'm a whore who sleeps around, and that marriage to me is worthless because I would just break the vows anyway. Sometimes, I think maybe even William himself suspects this, but he won't say anything. Why would he, when he has no reason to doubt me now?"

"Well, he'd be right, wouldn't he?" Clara asked, blinking up at Grell with mock innocence. "You would break the vows, wouldn't you?"

Furious, Grell sucked in a breath to hiss at the ignorant and rude woman, wanting to rip the white and blue gown off of her when she started dusting off imaginary dirt from it. "How dare you say that?" Grell growled, feeling uncomfortable as the babies started kicking roughly, clearly sensing Grell's discomfort. "I love William with all my heart, and always have, and I would never, _ever_ sleep around if I was married to him. And even if I'm not married to him, I'm going to stay faithful to him."

Clara was about to reply, but a softer, kinder voice interrupted the woman. It was the woman in the yellow dress, eyes glaring daggers at the other.

"Don't mind Clara," she said, leading Grell away, trying to soothe the other woman. "She hasn't been the same since she had to Reap her old lover's soul."

"Oh," Grell understood better now. If you had to go through the tragedy of losing your loved one to death, and even played a part in that, no matter how small, you would want to destroy everyone else's love, wouldn't you. You would be furious at the world, and when you saw those in love, you would want to make them feel what you felt, know what you know. "I understand. But I still don't like it."

"I know," the ginger, Evangeline, replied, patting Grell's hand. "Which is why I thought I would take your mind off of it."

"How?" Grell narrowed her eyes at Evangeline suspiciously, before glancing around the hall, smiling softly when she saw William talking to some other people, shaking hands and searching for her. His shoulders relaxed a little when he saw her, and she smiled at him, waving her fingers and feeling her heart flutter when William nodded back.

"Baby names?" Evangeline asked, evidently unsure. "Have you got any baby names?"

"A few," Grell replied, blinking down at the ginger. "But nothing that seems to fit perfectly. Besides, William is adamant that if a baby is just like him, we can't call it Sullen."

"Sullen?" Evangeline wrinkled her nose, before stopping, surprising Grell. They didn't stop for long. Evangeline simply hooked her arm around Aubrey and swinging the girl in the pink dress out of her talk with her partner. "That would be perfect for a Mr Spears copy, I suppose, but then so would another name, which Aubrey here is obsessed with."

"Oh?" Grell looked at the girl curiously, blinking at her in surprise. Why was this woman thinking up baby names? It didn't seem like a normal thing to do, seeing as she wasn't pregnant. "What is it? And why are you thinking it up?"

"Well," she began, fiddling with the white lace trimming on her gown, her braids falling forwards to mask her face. "I just really like the name, ever since my friend suggested it as a name to another pregnant woman, but then she named her child Sophie, without any thoughts of an interesting name. I suppose it is _her_ child, so she shouldn't have to name it what I think is pretty, but I do so love the name."

Grell nodded, knowing what the other girl meant. Sometimes, she made decisions that she liked, and they were shot down by other people. Admittedly, the decision had more to do with them than her, but it was always a sad moment to find that what you thought was best wasn't what other people thought was best. It was almost as if someone was telling you that what you thought was wrong. Gently, Grell put her hand on Aubrey's shoulder, asking her what the name was.

"Brienne," Aubrey said, smiling a little. "It means strength and honour, and it was the name of a friend of mine, until she died. I wanted something to honour her memory, which was why I suggested it, but my friend Teresa said that it was a bad name, and that I should forget about it."

Brienne? Grell thought about it for a second, liking the way the name seemed to roll off of the tongue. Could she see her child named it, though? A bouncing baby came to mind, glaring in annoyed manner at another baby. It was the cutest image in her head, and Grell laughed, causing Aubrey's skin to darken in embarrassment.

"You don't have to name your child Brienne," Aubrey said quickly, clearly thinking that the name was a problem. "I just thought that it was nice. You can name her something else… like…"

"Timandra," Evangeline broke in, fiddling with her hair and smiling, wriggling in an uncomfortable fashion at the look on the other woman's face. "It means honour, so you would really be naming the girl the same thing."

"Timandra?" Grell wrinkled her nose. The name was too posh and faerie like for her. It didn't fit at all. Timandra didn't seem like a girl who could go out and hold her own against a demon. Timandra didn't seem like a girl who could run rings around anyone who annoyed her. Timandra sounded like a girl who would go and demand things, without working towards them, in Grell's eyes. Brienne, however. It was feminine enough to be a girl's name, without it sounding like she would be a snotty brat. Brienne, Grell decided, was perfect. "No, no, no. I _much_ prefer Brienne. It just seems right, for a baby girl."

Aubrey looked up in surprise, eyes wide and hopeful looking. "Really? You mean it? Oh, can I come and see the baby? Can I?"

"Of course," Grell allowed, turning away from the girl and looking into the room, searching for her William among the rest of the Shinigami in the room. "I think Brienne would be very happy to see you. Have you seen William anywhere?" She squinted, hoping to see her love, turning around and growling as Aubrey and Evangeline tittered behind their hands. "What? Why are you laughing?"

Her lip curled up, until she was startled out of her bad mood by a hand slipping into hers. She turned, prepared to shoo away the culprit, before realising that it was William, standing tall and proud, just as he always had. He was looking down at her, holding out his hand in an offer to dance, and Grell's face stretched into a smile, her agreeing straight away.

They moved out onto the floor, Grell and he talking through the dancing. She told him about the name Brienne, and he seemed rather pleased with it, his blank demeanour disappearing when he told her that he liked the name. He then told her about a name that one of his superiors had given him. It was Ennata, and it meant Goddess. It was perfect, once again, and Grell smiled up at him, twirling round the floor and forgetting her aching back and ankles in the beautiful moment.

Before long, they were both lost in each other's eyes, Grell reaching up to twine her fingers through his hair, his lips leaning down to reach hers. They had stopped moving in the middle of the dance floor, but Grell didn't care. She didn't care that it wasn't proper etiquette for a ball. She didn't care that it wasn't proper to kiss in front of so many people, the whole floor having stopped moving in the hopes of not dancing into the stationary couple.

Their lips touched, William's hands clutching the red velvet of her gown at the small of her back, her gloved hands running lines through his hair. Their glasses clinked and William's mouth tasted like a sweet treat, though Grell couldn't place it. She sighed into the kiss, lips curling up into a smile as he hummed. And when the entire room appeared to clap for them, and their found love, Grell couldn't bring herself to pull away further than a few centimetres, tucking her head under William's chin, who was probably tinged red when he realised that everyone was watching them, his arms wrapping around her and tightening their grip, holding her close and safe. She was just about to pull him into dancing again, when a voice spoke up.

"So," it was Clara, which rather worried Grell, considering their conversation from earlier. "When are you going to marry, then?"

Both William and Grell blinked in surprise, before Grell buried her face into the man's shoulder. She didn't want to let him know just how much she would like to be married to William, and it was clear that he was surprised, making a funny choking noise before closing his mouth, clearly too scared to open it in fear or saying something wrong. Sighing, Grell pulled away. Clara had just had to spoil the mood, hadn't she?

 **Author's Note: Sorry this is such a long chapter, and I think it loses it's way a little around three quarters of the way through, before picking up again. This is my fault. I lost the inspiration and story around then, and couldn't really get it to work, no matter how I tried, but once the name Brienne was mentioned, I picked up the trail again, so I'm sorry if this chapter isn't very good. Hope you enjoyed it anyway. :)**


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, Yana Toboso does.

Difficult Love Chapter Eighteen

It had been months since the dance, and Grell was finding it painful to walk around. Her ankles were aching and her back was sore, mostly due to her large stomach. When she had wished to be pregnant, she knew, this was not the bit she was looking forwards to, but she was glad to admit that the babies were due any time now, proven by a few false alarms that she had gone through, which had quite worried William.

It was early on a Saturday morning, and she was sitting in the large lounge in Frieda and Bianca's house, William sitting next to her, both of them having agreed to look after Violet while Frieda and Bianca went out for the day with Evangeline, Aubrey and Clara, the five of them having become firm friends since the dance, even though Clara wasn't a particularly nice person, in Grell's view.

Next to her, William was staring at her, though Grell couldn't have said why. Really, it was starting to worry her, especially because Violet was sitting on his lap and tugging at his tie, though he hadn't appeared to notice this. Self-consciously, Grell fiddled with her hair, the messy strands that normally fell into her eyes, even when her hair was pulled up, pushed away from her face, a large red hat with a pink flower on it resting jauntily over that. Chuckling, Grell pulled back as Violet reached for the flower, instead picking up Shini, a blonde haired doll, from the floor and handing it to the little girl. William, on her other side, placed Gami on the table, knowing that it would be lost otherwise.

Around her neck, Grell could feel the ruby red beads of her necklace, and fiddled with them anxiously. William was still staring at her, and she didn't understand why. Normally, his glances were slow, yes, but he did look away after a while, going back to getting something done. Now, he was flat out staring at her, and Grell didn't understand why.

"Why do you get a pretty dress?" Violet asked, interrupting Grell's train of thought. "Mama says that my pretty dress is too good to wear. Mama hasn't said that to you."

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions, Violet, darling," Grell replied, smoothing the material of her gown over her stomach and smiling when she felt a spontaneous kick from the babies. They had started to move a lot, and Grell didn't blame them. Clearly, they wanted out of her body. Violet, looking dissatisfied with the answer Grell gave, reached over and picked at some of the silver lines running in swirls across the skirt, before tugging at the lacing of the bodice and pulling at the fake roses decorating it. "And I won't get my dress dirty on my adventures."

"Humph," Violet folded her arms across her chest, pulling a face and looking slightly annoyed. "Dresses don't get dirty _on purpose_." She complained, reaching down to fiddle with her grass stained, brown skirt. "Gami and Shini say that I hafta land on the grass. The grass does it."

"I know honey," Grell replied, smoothing back Violet's ginger hair and wiping a bit of mud off of Violet's face, the girl in question wrinkling her nose and pulling away, small silver framed glasses knocking themselves into a wonky position on her face. This was enough to break William from his staring, who turned to her and readjusted the spectacles instead, hating slipshod glasses. "But maybe you could try something less messy, hmm? How about…." Grell paused to think, before William stood up, hefting the large four year old into his arms.

"You could try reading." He advised, hooking her legs around his waist as he carried her up the stairs, her arms wrapping around his neck. "Mama and Mummy," he looked loath to say the word 'mummy', which made Grell giggle slightly as she followed behind. "Say that you need to work on it, don't they?"

"Yes," Violet replied, sounding as if she wanted to do anything else in the world. "But Mama and Mummy aren't here. Mama and Mummy say I can play today."

"You could draw?" Grell suggested, waddling a little in her ballet flats and entering the room for the little girl, pulling out a box of chalk and a blackboard and setting it on the table, whilst Violet clung onto William to stabilise herself as she was put down. "How about a pretty flower?"

"I wanna draw a scythe," the little girl replied, pushing hair behind her ears impatiently and looking up at Grell. She looked a little upset, and her eyes were big and pleading. "What does one look like? Show me. Show me."

"What do you say?" William asked, causing Grell to look over to him again. He appeared to be very good with children, and it had come at such a surprise to Grell. To think, William T. Spears was good with children. It made Grell's heart flutter, and she walked over to him and threaded her fingers with his, head resting on his shoulder. Violet yawned loudly, causing them both to look over to her in astonishment. She had only been awake for a few hours.

"Please?" Violet sounded unsure, but she stumbled over to the little chair by her desk, Grell leaning down behind her, not willing to sit on the smaller seats in the fear that she would never get back up again.

"What can it hurt?" Grell asked, reaching over and pulling out a red chalk, before setting it to the little black board. She started to draw her chainsaw, making Violet's eyes widen in awe, before the little ginger turned to face Grell, freckles scattering her cheeks. "There. That's my death scythe."

"No it isn't," William reprimanded, coming up behind them and plucking up a simple white chalk. "You're death scythe was confiscated and redesigned by me. You now have scissors, Grell."

"Well, yes," Grell agreed, looking a little embarrassed, but not enough to pick up on. "But showing Violet a picture of a pair of scissors is hardly worth it. I could show her an actual pair of scissors from the kitchen."

"I would advise against it," William told her, knowing full well that if Violet was shown a pair of scissors and told that Grell had them for a death scythe, it was very likely that the lively little girl would go out and start stabbing things with scissors, which Bianca and Frieda would thank neither of the two for. Instead, Grell just sighed and rubbed out the red, leaving William to draw a standard scythe. "There," he said, placing the chalk down and pulling out a handkerchief to wipe off the white chalk residue from his black leather gloves. "That is a standard scythe, so the first you are likely to come into contact with. Is that to your liking, Violet?"

"Uncle William's the best!" Violet shrieked, making William look as if he wished he had done something far less kind for the little girl. Next to her, Grell just chuckled, watching as her small hands tried to recreate what William had done. Her tongue was poking out of her mouth slightly, and her brow was creased in concentration. Finally, after a while of the adorable display, she finished drawing the scythe, holding it up to show the black haired Reaper with a small smile on her face.

"It's very good, Violet," he said, patting her on the head and standing back as she yawned, making Grell's brow crinkle again.

"Are you tired, Violet?" Violet nodded, handing the blackboard to William, who placed it back on the desk, and rubbing at her eyes, her hands passing over the freckles on her face in an adorable manner.

"Mama said that I didn't sleep proper last night." Violet came closer to Grell and clutched at the redhead's skirt, looking up with big, innocent eyes, as if she was worried she were in trouble. "But I was happy that Uncle William and Auntie Grell was coming to play, so I couldn't make my eyes shut."

"Oh, _darling_ ," Grell crooned, wishing she could pick up the child, but feeling as if her stomach may get in the way a bit. Instead, she settled for pulling the girl towards her in a gentle hug. "You shouldn't get so excited to see William and I. We're going to be here for a very long time, and so are you."

"How long?" Violet demanded, folding her arms and seeming about to tell Grell off. "I don't believe you."

"Well," Grell watched as William picked Violet up again, helping her into her large bed. She fought against him for a second, wanting to clamber down and continue playing, but when William pulled the covers back and tucked them around her, she couldn't help another yawn, so lay back instead. Deftly, William pulled Violet's glasses off, slipping them onto the bedside table and sighing and moving them around the bed to the other one when Violet complained that 'Mama puts them on other side'. "I've been around for just over one hundred years," Grell continued, making Violet's eyes widen, though they weren't focused on her, instead sliding a little ways to the left of her. "And so has William. And we're going to be here forever. And soon, these two little ones are going to be here to be around forever, too."

"Forever?" Violet's voice was sleepy, and she couldn't hold back yet another yawn, making Grell smile as she bustled about to put away the drawing items, nails tapping delicately on the table as she picked them up. "Tha's so long. Bu' I only get two friends?"

"I'm going to have more than two babies one day, honey," Grell smoothed her hair back, fingers interlocking with William's as he watched her, eyes narrowing in on her bare forehead, looking slightly annoyed. Maybe she had something on it? She would check shortly, once she tucked Violet into bed. "One day I will have thirteen little ones. Now, close your eyes and go to sleep for me. We'll still be here when you wake up, okay?"

"'Kay," Violet agreed, rolling over to lay on her side and closing her eyes, not stirring when Grell and William walked out of the room, heading back down to the lounge where they had been before. Together, they sat down, Grell leaning into William and laying her head on his shoulder while he sat stiff and formerly, which was rather annoying, but so 'William' that Grell couldn't help but find it endearing. He was still staring at her, though, which was annoying.

"What?" Grell asked, pulling her hat off and rubbing at her forehead, wondering if there really was something on it. Never before had he looked at her forehead with quite such intensity. Never before had he looked at her forehead, really. "Is there something on my face?"

"There is red eyeliner around your eyes," William replied, pointing out the obvious. "And powder on your skin. However, I am more concerned with something that is not there."

"What?" Grell asked again, hands fluttering up to brush against her forehead. What could possibly not be there? If she was missing a bit of her forehead, she would know about it, wouldn't she? "What isn't there?"

Taking her by surprise, William reached up and out, hands fiddling in her hair for a minute before he pulled the clips holding her unruly strands of hair back, allowing them to fall back over her forehead. Confused, Grell reached up to brush them away, knowing that William liked neat things and making an effort for him, but he clasped her hands, halting her progress towards tidy hair.

"You shouldn't push it back," William told her, leaning in close and speaking to her in a low voice, one that sent her heart all aflutter again. Why did he have the power to do this to her? It wasn't fair. She was fairly sure that she didn't hold the same power over him. But then again, even if she did, would William ever tell her. Probably not. Confusion blazing in her eyes, she searched his. "You don't look like you without it falling over your face."

"But I thought you liked tidy things-" Grell broke off, bewildered at how stern his gaze was.

"Of course I like tidy things, Grell," he told her, lips brushing across her temple and making her jump. She hadn't been expecting it, but now that he had done it, her cheeks heated, a blush covering them. "But I love you, and you're not tidy. You don't have to change for me."

"Mmm," Grell agreed, distracted by his lips, which were still brushing over her skin, especially as she leaned closer to him. "You say that now-"

"I do," William agreed, tickling her temple with the movement of his lips, eyes closing as he moved his lips down her cheek, clearly going in slowly for a kiss. He paused for a second. "Although, if you are deciding to make a change for me," he whispered, pressing his lips to her cheek again, making it very hard for Grell to concentrate on what he was saying. "I request that you change in regards of your attitude towards paperwork."

"I've suddenly remembered," Grell murmured, turning her head, lips searching for Williams. "That you shouldn't have to change for the one you love."

"I suspected that you would remember that soon," William said, unable to continue speaking after that because Grell had pressed her lips to his in a soft, kiss, hands clutching at his lapels, before snaking their way up his chest and wrapping around his neck. She leaned into the kiss, preparing to open her mouth for him to allow their tongues to dance, when she felt an odd shifting in her stomach, and then a spreading pain.

Pulling back, she pressed her hands to it, groaning a little at the discomfort. Before long, the pain came back again, and Grell ground out, through gritted teeth, that her stomach was hurting. William didn't look too concerned, and Grell didn't blame him. It was probably another false alarm, and she shifted back into the sofa, preparing to wait it out. When that pain stopped, it wasn't more than ten minutes before another arrived.

"I believe that I should call Alan and Eric or Ronald in," William told her as she closed her eyes against the aching pain. "You should see medical attention."

"This is – probably- another- false alarm," Body tense, Grell clutched at her stomach, before relaxing as the pain desisted. She stood up, ready to act on William's idea, though still wanting to argue a little. However, before either of them could, her waters broke, and the ground around her feet was splashed with liquid. Her face went pale, though William didn't understand what had happened. Her dress had covered up the occurrence, and William was just as in the dark about whether it was the real deal or a false alarm as he had been before she had stood up, only to ruin Frieda and Bianca's floor.

Hitching up her dress to reveal the floor to William, whose eyes widened in shock, Grell doubled over, groaning once more.

"Oh, Death," she ground out, clutching at her stomach as her babies kicked in alarm. "This is happening William. William…" she didn't know what she was saying, but a nervousness had stolen over her and she started babbling. Violet came to mind, and she looked up at William. "Call Ronald. He has to look after Violet."

"Calm down, Grell," William tried to soothe, her stroking at her hair, but she just yelled at him, spurring him on to open a portal to Ronald's house, surprising the dual-haired Reaper, who was wearing a pair of trousers with a shirt buttoned halfway up over it, breakfast in hands. Eyes widening, he looked through the portal, only to find Grell doubled over, hands massaging at her stomach, clearly trying to alleviate the aching and the movement of the babies, and his boss standing there, an urgency on his face that hadn't been seen before, and a clear liquid all over the floor.

"What's going on?" He asked, placing his toast to the side on his own table, before stepping through the portal into Bianca and Grell's house.

"We need you to look after Violet McDonald," William told him, Grell relaxing as the pain went away again, before starting up once more. They were definitely contractions, she knew, and the real thing this time. It terrified her a little, to think that she would no longer be pregnant, but instead soon holding two little babies to her instead. "She is the four year old daughter of Bianca Shepard and Frieda Irwin. I myself must hurry Grell to the hospital, and Alan and Eric are presumably a little busy with Alan's own pregnancy, though their child is not due until two months' time."

"William," Grell bit out, annoyed at the speed in which William was talking. "If you don't _shut up_ , right now, I will scream and wake Violet."

William nodded, before closing the portal to Ronald's house and opening a new one to the hospital. He turned to Grell, asking if she could walk, but it turned out that she couldn't with any sort of efficiency. She was stumbling forward, and groaning a little, so William swung her up into his arms, wishing she had worn a dress a little less frilly. Maybe then, it would be easier to feel as if he had a good hold of her. He didn't want to drop her, after all.

Ronald nodded, eyes wide as William stepped towards the portal, Grell squeezing at William's hands in a sort of furious pain. She looked as if she wished to kill him, which made Ronald smile a little. William _had_ been the one to get Grell pregnant, after all. It would only be fair if she was to punish him a little. William threw one last thing over his shoulder as they passed through the portal, but Grell didn't hear, too caught up in the pain to understand what he was saying. Instead, she leant against him, tensing as another contraction hit, and allowed herself to be carried into the hospital.

"One last push, please, Grell." Nurse Liz said, who had turned out to be a midwife, as well. "Come on, you can do it."

Grell was lying on a hospital bed, teeth clenched in pain and eyes screwed up, her glasses tucked away in William's pocket so she didn't break them when she thrashed around in pain. She hadn't yet screamed out, but she had certainly crushed William's hand, and when she was looking at him, fury burned in her eyes.

"I'm never," she panted, tightening her grip on William as she did as the nurse asked, teeth clenching again and her eyes watering as she squeezed them tight. "Having sex with you, again," she finished, panting.

"One more, Grell, come on," Nurse Liz encouraged, patting Grell's leg and smiling up at her. Grell didn't take the smile too kindly, instead snapping back at the nurse.

"You just said that." She hissed, clenching one fist into the bedding of the hospital bed, the other pressing William's fingers together. He wouldn't be surprised if, by the end of the birthing session, Grell would have broken his hand. Finally, after Grell had done as the Nurse asked, a cry ran out in the room, and a baby was taken away, the umbilical cord quickly cut as the little, screaming thing was swaddled in a white blanket. A silver haired woman, dressed in red and brown, rushed into the room, taking the baby and standing in the corner, leaving space for Grell to give birth to the next child, and for William to help her. While this was happening, the baby calmed down, the wailing stopping fairly quickly.

.

"There," Nurse Liz soothed, as Grell looked about to bite someone's head off, no matter the fact that she was still lying down, ready to birth another baby. "You have a beautiful baby girl, Grell. Now, can you push again for me?"

"I hate you," Grell hissed, tensing her muscles and pushing, just as she had asked. William felt the bones in his hand straining, and he wondered, briefly, who Grell had been talking to. Perhaps it had been him, perhaps the nurse, or perhaps the world in general. With Grell, you could never tell. Once again, Grell pushed, Nurse Liz encouraging her, until, ten minutes later, another baby was born, this one screaming her lungs up, Grell falling back onto the bed in exhaustion as the baby was swaddled in another white cloth, William kissing Grell's temple as she settled back into the bed, her body limp but her eyes bright.

"Two little girls," Nurse Liz murmured, helping Grell to get comfortable. "Just like you said, Grell. Well done."

...

With that, Nurse Liz walked out the door, leaving Grell and William alone, Frieda placing the baby she had been holding into a cot at the far side of the room, before slipping out, clearly giving the new parents space.

William stared down at the little creatures in amazement. They were so small, he noted, and they were red in colour, one of them wailing its heart out, the other wriggling around, clearly wanting the other baby to stop. Lips twitching upwards in a smile, he reached down, picking one of the little girls up into his arms and supporting her head. Her hair, he noted, was very thin, tiny little tufts of it sticking to her head. Most of it was black, but there were a few tufts of red here and there, and William knew that when she grew older they would be stripes of red in her mostly black hair. Gently, rocking her as she wailed loudly, he walked her over to Grell, before placing the baby in her arms as the redhead looked down at the little thing in wonder.

Moved by the sight, William didn't hesitate to go over to the other baby and pick it up, the little girl seeming to have calmed now that the louder child had been moved away. She, William saw, had all dark hair, no red streaks in it at all, and he smiled. So his dark hair had won out overall, had it? Grell would be feeling very smug when she wasn't so tired or awed by the little creatures. When he walked back over, sitting on his bed as the little baby wriggled around, he noticed that Grell's eyes were wide, even without her glasses on.

Gently transferring his precious bundle into one arm, he reached into his pocket and retrieved Grell's glasses, slipping them onto her face and feeling his heart beat faster as Grell's eyes finally lit upon her little girl for the first time, seeing her as she was, instead of the blur she must have been to Grell before. The little girl had quietened, now that she was with her mother, and William stroked Grell's hair a little, before reaching down to stroke his daughter's face, feeling wonder stir inside him. The little bundle he was holding was half _him_. It was such an unreal feeling, and he couldn't help but think that what he had in that room, his family, was the most precious thing he had ever had. He couldn't lose that, and he knew a way to show it to people, a way in which Grell would like. It was just bringing it up that would be tricky. It could wait a while, he decided, anyway.

"A _baby_ , William," Grell whispered, still staring down at the little thing. "A _baby_."

" _Our_ baby," William agreed, feeling his lips twitch once more as the baby in his arms fell asleep, her wriggling stopping as she instead rested, probably very tired from her ordeal. "Along with this one."

Deftly, Grell transferred the baby she was holding into one arm so that she could run her finger down the other baby's face, eyes fixing on the plain black hair and noticing how they were different. So they weren't even close to being identical, their hair different. It made her smile, certainly.

"What shall we call them?" Grell whispered, her eyes slipping downwards and a smile gracing her lips, before she yawned. "Ennata and Brienne, obviously. But which is which."

"I'm holding Brienne," William decided. The little girl who only cried for a short time after finding everything she had ever known had changed, and the one who was fairly grumpy due to her sister's crying. She seemed to be strong, and seeing as Brielle meant 'strength', it was perfect. "You have Ennata."

"Hmm," Grell hummed in agreement, eyes still falling upon her baby. "That's perfect. Brienne Crimson Spears and Ennata Scarlett Spears."

Ordinarily, William would have disputed their middle names, not liking them at all, but he knew that Grell would win, no matter what, so he just hummed, nodding his head slightly. Besides, he thought, Brienne Crimson and Ennata Scarlett were not bad names for his children, not at all. And he was also very pleased that the little creatures had his surname. That would mean that they would easily be connected to him, and no one would ask who their parents were. Grell was obvious to see in them, their features, though soft like a baby's should be, clearly holding the angular features of Grell in them. He was visible too, he noted, in the set of Brienne's expression and the stubborn way in which the children seemed to behave.

Next to him, Grell's eyes slipped closed, Ennata stopping her quite whimpering and slowing her movement, clearly falling asleep on top of her mother. Carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping darling in his arms, he went and placed her back in the cot, before prying Ennata from Grell's arms sleepily, the little girl whining a little, before stilling again, and placing her next to her sister. Finally, he pulled a blanket over Grell and brushed a kiss to her forehead, pulling up a chair to watch his children. Finally, he thought, they had been born. Now he just had to learn how to take care of them. Oh, and surprise Grell, too.

 **Author's Note: I'm sorry if this chapter isn't very well written. I've never given birth before, so this is mostly running off of research. I hope that you enjoyed it, even if it did suck, and I hope you check back soon to see how William and Grell get along with Brienne and Ennata.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: I am so sorry that I haven't posted anything from this story for a while. It's just been so hectic recently, what with going back to school and the likes. I've barely had a free moment. I hope you enjoy the story now, though, and I really am sorry that you have had to wait so long before the completion of this chapter. I also hit a pretty strong case of writers block, too, so I had to work through that along with all the homework school gives out.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, only this storyline, Bianca Shepard, Frieda Irwin, Brienne Spears, Ennata Spears and Violet McDonald.**

Difficult Love Chapter Nineteen

Ennata squirmed in Grell's arms as she carried the darling little girl up the path to Alan and Eric's house, a few days after the birth of Alan and Eric's little girl. Her own children were two months old now, and keeping her up all night. Well, Ennata was. Brienne seemed to like her beauty sleep just as much as Grell did, only waking to wriggle and gurgle at her little sister when the dual-haired baby woke to squeal.

William was carrying Brienne, who was dressed in a plain white baby grow with instructions of how to put the thing on embroidered on the front, making William look a little miffed. Grell had recently made it for the little one herself, mostly because William had managed to break one figuring out how exactly to put it on the baby. Luckily, Brienne came away unscathed, though a little confused as to why her father had tried to force her into a backwards baby grow, and Ennata had made a sound that was very close to giggling, though more a bubbling gurgle than anything. Grell had only grinned and laughed at William after assuring herself of Brienne's safety. In her own arms, another white baby grow with the words 'while you are sleeping, I am thinking up ways to wake you' in black embroidery, Frieda having made it for the little girl.

Frieda was there with William and Grell as they went up the path, Violet skipping along around them, eyes still wide every time she saw the babies. It wasn't like she hadn't seen them very often, as she had, but she was still very confused. They were tiny, she had said, and they couldn't do anything. How on earth was she supposed to play with them? Grell had told her to wait a bit, just until the children were big like her, and Violet had agreed unhappily. Now, she kept checking their size every time she saw them, desperate for them to be 'big like her'.

Grell herself was in a plain red dress, simple in every aspect of the design. She couldn't really find enough time or will to doll herself up each morning. However, she did have red lipstick and eyeliner on, and a large, dainty hat did rest upon her head. Behind her, Frieda wore a pink and blue outfit, the bodice and long sleeves of an elegant dark silk, the skirt of a fancy, layered pink and blue striped effect. Her wrists were cuffed with white lace, hands encased in creamy leather gloves. Upon her head sat a large brimmed blue hat with a pink feather in the top, a matching parasol thrown over her shoulder.

Bianca, white hair flowing down her back, was wearing a yellow and pink number, slim fitting and printed with pink flowers upon the pale yellow material, the sleeves covering her arms just as Frieda's did hers. Her skirt was decorated with lace and bows, her hands hidden by white silk, Violet's hand slipped within her own. She, too, had a parasol with her, though it was being used largely as a walking stick for the time being, the tip of it being driven into the ground with each step. A straw bonnet sat atop her head, decorated with dark blue, white and pink flowers.

The freckled Violet was dressed all in white, a little white hat upon her ginger locks. She had a golden hoop in one hand, and was looking up at her mother, though was engaged in a conversation with Ronald Knox, who was walking along beside her, looking fairly amused, fairly confused. It wasn't every day that he got to spend his time with a young girl, after all, especially not one as talkative as Violet. She honestly never ceased talking, and could be quite a handful because of it.

Finally, they reached the door, the group of them huddling together upon the doorstep. Bianca rang the bell, Ronald having been pushed to the back, while Violet had clambered up her mother, ending up being supported by the small woman's arms, William's arms supporting Brienne, and Grell's supporting Ennata. They didn't have to wait too long, Eric opening the door within a minute of the bell being rung, before leading them in, joyfully, to the house.

He looked rather tired, it had to be said, but he was smiling happily, and when they were finally led into the living room, he walked straight over to Alan and sat down with the man, arms wrapping around the brunette, head resting on his shoulder as he gazed down at the little bundle in Alan's arms, which appeared to be wriggling for all she was worth, despite her young age of two days. Amused, Grell stepped forward and peered at the little bundle.

"She reminds me of Ennata," She exclaimed, noticing how the little girl had the same brown hair as Alan did, though she looked rather grumpy, Alan finally giving up and handing her to Eric as Grell backed away and took a seat, the little thing stopping her violent movements at once, as soon as she was in Eric's arms. "She can't seem to stay still when William holds her. I think it's because William is just no fun. Is he _darling_?" She tickled Ennata's cheek, who blinked up at her hazily, before making a grab for Grell's finger, ready to suck on it. William, next to her, was already being attacked by Brienne, who had taken to grabbing anything around her, be it William's hand, Grell's hair or one of the other of their glasses, to chew. It appeared she was teething, but it was starting to get a little uncomfortable for William. Her gums were pretty hard, and they appeared to be gaining teeth, as they had scratched him a little the other day, and he was a little wary about putting his fingers back into Brienne's mouth. Not that he had a choice.

"Badriyah won't stay away from Eric," Alan replied, eyes following his little girl as Eric rocked her, smiling down as she wriggled around, eyes falling shut and her movement finally slowing as she drifted off to sleep. "I think she's very much like him. She cannot seem to stop being active, or to know when enough is enough."

"Hey, tha's no' fair," Eric complained, though mildly. Now that Badriyah had stopped wiggling, she was handed back to Alan, who placed her into a comfortable looking pram to the side, allowing her to sleep peacefully. Soon, she would wake up to cry hungrily for milk, but for the moment, they let her rest. "I know when enough's enough."

"Badriyah?" Ronald asked, face screwing up in concentration. "What's that mean? Brienne and Ennata were named because of the meaning, see, and I was wondering if Badriyah was too?"

He had walked over to the pram to see her better, eyes fixing on her little, pink, butterfly-covered baby grow and fuzzy brown hair. Her skin was pale like Alan's, but her features appeared to take more of a resemblance to Eric's. She was beautiful, just as Ennata and Brienne were.

"It means full moon," Alan informed them, leaning back into Eric, as Grell copied his movement towards William, who seemed to be looking down at Brienne with a raised eyebrow, eyes a little reproving. Briefly, Grell wondered what her little darling had done, before remembering that William always looked like that, and ignoring him again, though leaning warmly into him, he returning the pressure against her shoulder. "Badriyah was born on the full moon, so we decided to name her after it."

"Cool," Ronald replied, before walking over and holding out his arms, silently asking if he could take Ennata from Grell. Slowly, Grell relinquished her grip upon her daughter, allowing the wriggling girl to be brought up into Ronald's arms. "Like how this little one is named after being a Goddess, right?"

"I suppose," Alan agreed, watching Ronald hold Ennata with a slight smile, Grell watching them carefully, whilst falling away into her memories, specifically the first time she had introduced Ronald to Brienne and Ennata.

 _Grell had been sitting on the sofa, still a little tired from the birth, two days after returning from the hospital, her little darling Ennata asleep in her arms, Brienne in William's arms across from her, a cup of tea next to the both of them, though Grell was wishing for something more caffeinated to keep her stronger. A knock had come on the door then, startling her, and she groaned before attempting to sit up, falling back into her seat with relief when William had risen instead, Brienne in his arms._

 _A few moments later, he returned, Ronald following after him. The dual-haired boy had his gazed fixed over William's shoulder, on Brienne, as best he could, though he couldn't see the girl very well, owing to the fact that William was quite a bit taller than Ronald himself. Brienne had been dressed in a pink baby grow at the time, the logo 'I'm cute, Mum's hot, Daddy's lucky', emblazoned across her chest, Ennata herself in a dark blue onesie with the words 'I just got here and I'm already awesome' written across her front._

 _Ronald had laughed at their baby grows, when given a chance to read them, and he had noticed the hair, remarking on how it was nice to know that at least one Reaper other than Eric had two colours in their hair naturally. Grell had laughed at that, before allowing Ronald to hold the little Ennata. The younger baby had seemed like the best choice to allow Ronald to hold. Ennata didn't seem to find any aversion to strangers, but Brienne was different. She shied away from strangers and preferred to stay with her father, liking the calm attitude that he had. She was often whimpering, rarely crying, but when William came to her, she was taken._

 _Despite this, later in the day, William had fallen asleep on the sofa, and it was time for the baby's to feed. Grell had still been carrying Ennata, making a bottle up full of milk and giving it to Ennata to suckle on. When William hadn't shown up, Grell had sent Ronald to go in search of him, only to find him returning with a small smile on his face and a perfectly peaceful Brienne in his arms, who was watching him with wide eyes, though she would only be able to see a blur. For some reason, her eyes were always open wide, as if she never wanted to miss anything, even though Grell was pretty sure that she should have some kind of thing against opening her eyes at her age._

 _After that, Grell had entrusted that Ronald would keep both babies safe, dubbing him 'Uncle Ronnie' whenever she talked about him to her little ones, which was often, William often smiling his tiny smile when he watched her, one hand playing in her long red locks, the other with Brienne or Ennata in his arms, whichever one had chosen to be there that day. Ronald, having heard her talking to them one day, had been very happy to find himself named 'Uncle Ronnie', and had gone around telling the woman at work about it, getting himself quite a few date offers because of it. Grell had only laughed._

"Ouch," An exclamation of slight pain and surprise caught Grell out of her thoughts, and her head whipped around to William, who was looking down at Brienne with a reproachful look. She was staring at him wide-eyed, looking as though she were about to cry, and clearly not understanding what she had done.

"Did she scratch you again, Willy-darling?" Grell asked, rocking Ennata slightly as she began whimpering, clearly sensing her sister's distress. "You know better than to put your hand in her darling little mouth. She's teething."

William was glancing down at his torn glove, a tiny bead or red welling up from his skin. Grell's eyes widened in surprise when she saw it, and she reached down to encircle his wrist with her fingers, lifting his hand to her lips and kissing the finger, smiling at him above it.

"There, all better," is what she said.

"Hmm," William agreed, turning his attention back to his daughter after a faint red flush covered his cheeks. Slowly and gently, he used his finger to pry Brienne's mouth open, all eyes in the room fixed on him, most in confusion, though Grell knew precisely what William was doing. He was checking Brienne's mouth, or more specifically, her teeth. "But what kind of teeth are coming through?"

"Wha' do yer mean, boss?" Eric asked, pulling Alan closer to him and watching with a slight interest. Alan, too looked curious, though he was distracted when Violet threw herself against his legs, ending up picking the little girl up and settling her in his lap, her fiddling with his shirt as she watched from a distance, murmuring questions to the brunette, clearly unsure as to what was going on.

"I mean," William explained patiently, drawing his finger away from Brienne's mouth as it gaped open on its own, allowing him to see inside. "Has Brienne inherited my teeth, or Grell's?"

"Well, I'd say it is more likely to be yours, Willy-darling," Grell pointed out, shushing Ennata, who had begun to whimper. She was hungry, and Alan noticed this, so he passed Violet over to Eric, who stared at him warily, and went in search of a bottle. "Seeing as one, my teeth are very unusual, and two, Ennata and Brienne have both inherited more features from you than they have from me."

"That may be so," William said, looking up when Alan returned and meeting Grell's eyes, accepting the bottle from Alan and setting it down to the side as Grell allowed Ennata to feed, "But she certainly has your teeth. There can be no doubt about it. See here?"

He gestured towards the front, upper gum of his little girl, and Grell felt her eyes widen at the sight. So Brienne had inherited something from her after all. Her teeth. That was nice. Smiling slightly, Grell brushed her fingers across the confused baby's hair, tickling her face a little, before settling back again, eyes darting between both her children as Badriyah began to stir, Alan already at hand with a bottle, as Violet was still interrogating Eric, who looked bemused.

Finally, William picked up the bottle beside him and allowed Brienne to suckle, causing her to settle down once more, Badriyah in much the same position as she. Together, the seven adult Reapers, though there were eleven of them altogether, spent the rest of the day having fun and chatting, leaving each other's company at around one o'clock, Grell and William ready to put their bundles down to sleep, and Alan himself ready for a nap, Badriyah sleeping in his arms once more. Ronald had a date, and Bianca and Frieda had promised Violet a trip to the park, so all parted their own separate ways, though William did promise Grell that she could take her babies in to town the next day, as he had something he wanted to do there anyway.

Excitement flowing in her blood, Grell wondered just what the next day had in store.

 **Author's Note: I know there is very little point in this piece of writing, but it was the only thing I could come up with today. There will be something better the next time I post something, but at the moment I'm finding it very hard to write anything at all, which is a total nightmare. I hope this chapter didn't disappoint you too much, and allowed you to get to know Brienne and Ennata a little better. Thank you.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in a very long time. I just couldn't really find the time or inclination, but I have it now. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I was reading some new Black Butler Mangas and a few books, so I couldn't be interrupted).** **And in answer to SULMA5ever's question, I was indeed making reference to Ciel in Wonderland** **. Glad that you recognised it!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, only this plotline and Ennata and Brienne. Lillianna Murphy, Aliyah Jefferson, Santino Bray and Shu Li are all my characters, too.

Difficult Love Chapter Twenty

Grell smiled as she strolled down the street, ladies stopping to stare at her pretty little babies as they went by with her, William having returned to work that day. Brienne and Ennata were napping away, contentedly, and she herself was strolling along, trying to find Li Shu's Dressmaking Shop. She had passed it many times, and had always wanted to try it, but never before had she had a chance, always finding herself distracted with another shop. Today, she had decided, would be the day that she finally found out what Shu Li's dress designs were like.

A voice cut across the bustling town, sounding vaguely familiar. Grell was sure she had heard it before. Turning around in faint confusion, hands still on the pram that held her babies, who were beginning to stir, she caught sight of a small, dark skinned lady running towards her, a gold dress with embossed flowers on it flying around her, the neckline lined with yellow silk roses. The dress must have been a gift, Grell knew, if she remembered correctly, as this woman wasn't particularly rich.

"Miss – Sutcliff, was it?" Out of breath, the small lady rested her white gloved hands on her hips, bending forwards slightly in the hopes of catching her breath, which Grell knew was going to be a very difficult task due to the corset that she was undoubtedly wearing. She herself was in one, now that she wasn't carrying children.

"Yes?" Grell asked, an eyebrow raised. She had been correct. The woman before her was the short, raven haired woman that she had met in a shop once, and now another woman was jogging up behind her, brown hair tied with pink ribbons, and a red flush spreading across her pale skin, making her look like a tomato in a pink dress. "Lilliana Murphy, was it not?" She asked, rocking the pram a little as Ennata began to whimper. She knew it wasn't Brienne – Brienne never whimpered. "And Aliyah Jefferson. What a _pleasure_ to see you again."

"Yes, yes," Lilliana waved off, eyes fixed to the pram. Grell noticed, with some amusement, that Lilliana was nearly always staring at babies, or the prospect of babies, and it was clear, at least to the redhead, if no one else, that Lilliana wanted children, no matter how much she pretended it was boring and ordinary. "But there was a man that wanted to speak to you."

"You said that last time," Grell pointed out, finally sighing and dragging her pram to the side of the pavement, to rest against a wall so that she was out of the way of passers-by, lifting a moody Ennata out once finished. Rocking the child in her arms a little, and allowing her to suck on her finger, she smiled as the baby calmed down, eyes flickering back to the women before her again. "You can just come up to speak to me, you know. I don't bite."

"No," Aliyah shook her head, smoothing down the lace ruffles at the front of her pink dress, white gloves causing a rustling sound to be heard, even above the sound of all the carriages and pedestrians. "There really is a man who wishes to talk to you. He says it's important."

Looking around, Grell tried to spot anyone who appeared to be searching for her, but could see no-one. Raising an eyebrow, she turned back to the women, and shushed Ennata, who was starting to cry, clearly hungry. Vaguely annoyed that Lilliana and Aliyah were taking up her time, Grell bent down before them, her red dress flowering out around her, and fished out a bottle of milk from under the pram, placing it to Ennata's lips and allowing her beautiful, two-toned haired baby to suckle from it, while she checked over Brienne, who appeared to be wriggling around in discomfort.

"I don't see anyone," Grell flung over her shoulder, wondering how, exactly, she was supposed to feed both babies at a time. Giving up, she sighed, turning around and searching out Lilliana's gaze. "I don't suppose you could reach under the pram and get a bottle, could you? Brienne needs feeding, you see?"

"Brienne?" Lilliana asked, before doing as told. Coming closer to the pram, she realised that there were two babies, and her mind flashed back to when Grell had been worked up over the fact that she had mentioned only one child. Flushing a little, she reached out to tickle Brienne's face, smiling as the baby grabbed hold of her hand and attempted to put her finger in her mouth. "Of course. You said there was going to be two, didn't you?"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Warning Lilliana about Brienne, she smiled at the confused woman, before turning to look around again, hoping that maybe a second look would give her a glimpse of the mysterious man that needed to talk to her. "Brienne has my teeth."

The shock of the words caused Lilliana to pull her finger away quickly. Obviously, she had noticed how sharp Grell's teeth were, and was desperate not to have her finger cut, or her glove damaged. Instead, she passed the bottle to Aliyah, reached into the pram, and scooped the baby out, smiling at the downy black hair on the baby's head as she took the bottle back off of a cooing Aliyah and allowed Brienne to feed.

"I still don't see a man," Grell told them impatiently, finishing up feeding Ennata and putting the bottle back under the pram. She held Ennata against her shoulder and started patting her back, helping to stop any indigestion that the girl might have. Finished, she saw that her little girl was drifting off back to sleep, and placed her back in the pram, taking Brienne back when she saw that Lilliana was done feeding her. "So your excuse doesn't work very well, does it?"

"No, no," Aliyah said, bustling closer to the pram and cooing at the sleeping children. "There really was a man. He had long silver hair and a creepy smile. What are these two called, then? I must be allowed to design clothes for them when they get older."

"Maybe," Grell allowed, worry striking her. The man they described could only be Undertaker, but she didn't really trust him when she was on her own, let alone when she was with her children. She certainly wasn't going to talk to him if she could help it. "They're named Brienne and Ennata," she continued, answering Aliyah's question, before glancing around again, more in worry than confusion this time. "And I don't want to talk to him. I know who he is, and I certainly shall not, under any circumstances, talk to him. He ruined my pretty face, see?"

"He, he, he," The sound came from behind her, and Lilliana's pretty grey eyes had widened, though Aliyah still seemed to be distracted by the babies, brushing Grell off a little and leaning down to kiss their foreheads, making a small stab of worry for them strike through Grell. How dare she touch her little darlings without permission? "That's not very nice, now, is it?"

Undertaker's voice pierced the thick air, and Grell turned, tensing her muscles and fixing her trademark, jagged grin at Undertaker, reaching up to fiddle with her hair. Feeling her eyes flash in anger, Grell cocked her head to the side and eyed him, warily. He took a few steps forward, to the pram, and leaned down, his silver hair making a curtain over the babies. Grell, terrified for her children, considering what had happened the last time they had met, tensed all over, assessing him for any danger he might pose. He didn't appear to be doing anything wrong that second, but she was ready to summon her scythe and slice through his neck if he wasn't careful. It was clear, from his scars, that she wouldn't be the first to do so.

"What pretty little things," he continued, reaching in and tickling them under the chin with his long, midnight nails. "Why didn't you tell them about me, Crimson?"

"I didn't think you had any right to know," Grell replied, haughtily, coming forwards and moving them, gently, away from Undertaker, hoping to conceal the fact that she was doing so by reaching down to cover them further with the little blanket that Frieda had knitted them. "Even a hottie like you doesn't get to know about my little darlings if they ruin a poor lady's face."

"Now, now, m'dear," Undertaker replied, laughing a little, before turning and beckoning behind him. "Don't let my darling her you say that. I'm sure I don't want to have to kill you to satisfy his jealousy. I don't want the Shinigami on my back, y'see?"

"I don't care about your darling," Grell replied, eyeing the man standing next to Undertaker. He wasn't looking particularly happy, a faint flush rising to his pale cheeks and large, silvery eyes eying both Grell and her babies, and the other two women a little unhappily. There was a scar running along one of his cheeks, Grell noticed, and his pale brown hair was tied up in a high ponytail, running in curls down his back. She would gladly add to those scars and cut all of those silky locks off if he were to even think about touching a hair on her, or her precious little bundles', heads. "Though your darling looks rather moody. Is he as uptight as Willy-darling, perhaps?"

"Willy-darling?" Undertaker laughed, stopping short when the man next to him spoke.

"I am not 'uptight', as you put it, madam," he said, scowling further than he had been before, making Grell doubt his words quite strongly. "I am merely unimpressed with being referred to as 'his darling' when in public, among people who may take it the wrong way." He eyed the shocked looking Aliyah and Lilliana, as if to make his point. "So please, refrain from doing so."

"You needn't worry about me, honey," Grell assured him, hand moving up, of its own accord, to fiddle with her hair. She couldn't help it. He was so much like William, save for his looks, that her body had kicked into autopilot, and she couldn't stop it. "I'm not exactly your normal person, after all."

"Indeed," he agreed, before eyeing her a little closer. "You're another one of those Death things, aren't you? You have the same eyes as the ones that were hunting us. Are you a secretary, or something, as I don't believe I have seen a woman working the job, before?"

"No, _Undertaker's darling_ ," Grell stressed, trying to get him to hand over his name. It was rather annoying that she didn't know the name of this man. How could she ask the Reapers to keep an eye on him otherwise, to make sure she had something over Undertaker's head should he dare to harm her face again? "I am a Reaper, of course, but I am not a secretary. You may have heard of Jack the Ripper? That was me – well, half of it." She smiled at him, winking and making sure to look rather terrifying, even if she was holding babies. It appeared to work, because the already pale skin of the brunette went just a shade paler. "I was busy carrying these children, which is why you probably didn't see me. Willy-darling wouldn't let me go out on field work. Such a cold _, heartless_ man. Which Reapers did you see, then?"

"Would you stop calling me that?" The man asked, fiddling with some of the escaping locks of his hair over his face. "My name is Mr Bray, or Santino, if you feel the need to call me by my first name, as some Reapers, do apparently. And I don't know what Reapers I saw. I don't have any of their names, though I think that if your name is something ridiculous like 'Legendary Death', I will be rather confused about the Reaper's view on naming."

Turning her nose up a little, displeased with the way the brunette, Santino, was talking to her, Grell allowed her teeth to glint in the light, her glasses reflecting the light as well. Growling slightly, hands tightening on the handle of the pram, Grell ground out her words grudgingly.

"My name is not 'Legendary Death'," Grell replied, eyeing Undertaker with distaste. "I don't know what he has been telling you, but Legendary Death is just a title. He has a real name. My title, often, is The Red Reaper, or the Crimson Death, but my name is Grell Sutcliff, or Miss Sutcliff, if you would. And you could always _describe_ the Reapers, you know."

"Sutcliff?" Santino asked, brushing his hair away again. Honestly, Grell thought, eyes following the moments of his hands. If he was that bothered with the hair in his face, couldn't he just _cut it_? "You have the name of a killer, Miss."

"I am a killer," Grell pointed out, before switching to a flirtatious smile and fiddling with her hair once more, realising that she was starting to get a little too worked up for the situation. "Of men's hearts."

Santino looked annoyed, though he hid his irritation well. When he next spoke, his voice was still pleasant. Grell got the feeling that she and he would never get along, as his voice held the sort of forced pleasantry that she and Jorge were using towards each other recently, ever since their argument.

"Anyway, seeing as you are so desperate to know, one of the Reapers had slicked back black hair, one had slightly messy brown hair, one had a very odd style, and was blonde on one side, with brown hair on the other, and one looked very much like that."

He pointed his finger down the road, causing Grell to turn and grin when she spotted sight of Ronald, who looked like he was on the way to a Reap, though it was clear, from Lilliana and Aliyah's confused looks, that they couldn't see him. Santino had the sight, Grell realised, her eyes sliding to him in renewed interest. This was more interesting.

"Hmm," Grell nodded, head swinging back to Santino, her hat slipping down slightly into a more slanted position. Behind her, Lilliana and Aliyah started to slip silently away. Grell didn't blame them. This was going to be rather weird for a human without the sight, after all. "Well, that sounds like Willy-darling, Alan Humphries, Eric Slingby and Ronald Knox."

Ronald had spotted Grell and walked over, by this point, so he smiled and nodded when Grell spoke his name, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Brienne and Ennata.

"That's right, sempai," he agreed, smiling, leaning against his lawnmower, "I am Ronald Knox. Though I can't work out why you're telling Death or the brown haired one that was there the last time we met."

"Oh, I was just naming you because Santino here was asking," Waving a hand at him, Grell turned back to Brienne and picked her up, before handing her to Ronald. "Does little Brienne want to say hello to Uncle Ronnie, does she?" She cooed. Ronald held his arms out to the little girl, drawing her to his chest and gazing down at her with a smile.

"Y'know," he murmured, smiling down at the little thing. "One day, I'm going to meet a nice Shinigami and were going to settle down and have a family too." Appearing to have realised what he said, a flush rose to his cheeks, and he smiled a little in a self-deprecating way. "Though not too soon," he added in a hurry.

"Not a nice Shinigami girl?" Undertaker giggled, wiggling his black-tipped fingers and threading one hand through Santino's hair, though he was shrugged off by the bemused looking brunette. "I would have thought that a girl would suit your tastes, Mr Knox."

"Not always," Ronald replied, glancing up and flushing again when he found three faces turned in his direction, the green one looking a little shocked, the grey one looking as if it couldn't care less, and the one covered by silver being impossible to read. It was probably amused, though. "I do have my eyes on a man at the moment, actually."

"Really?" Grell was fascinated, and desperate to learn who it was that had caught her friend's attention. "Who is it? Does he party a lot, like you do?"

"Not really," Ronald said, shifting Brienne into one arm and rubbing the back of his neck. "He's more uptight, like your Mr Spears."

"So, who?" Grell asked, smile stretching across her face, falling only slightly when Ronald handed Brienne back, eyes glancing at the watch on his wrist.

"Ah, I'm sorry sempai," he said, rubbing the back of his neck again. "I have to go. Otherwise I'm going to be late for my next collection. I'll see you later."

He turned to walk off, turning abruptly a few seconds later, calling back to the three as they started after him, a little confused. "By the way, sempai. Mr. Spears told me that if I saw you, that he would like to meet you for dinner at a restaurant, tonight, and that maybe you might want to let me look after Ennata and Brienne. He said it was the fancy one that you almost got kicked out of last time you went."

Grell thanked him with a smile, her heart speeding up at the thought of having dinner with her William again. It had been a while since they had gone out, and she knew that Ronald would take good care of her children, so pushing down her annoyance that she had never got to learn who Ronald was crushing on, she turned back around to face Undertaker and Santino, an eyebrow raised and in a hurry to get to Li Shu's Dressmaking Shop. She had a date to buy for, after all.

"So," she said, putting Brienne back into the pram and tucking her in, feeling relief rush through her when Ennata settled down again, having stirred as Brienne was put into the pram. "Was there a particular reason that you came to talk to me, Unnie, or was it so that we could get in a fight?"

She smiled at this, eyes going wide and her hair being caught by the breeze, making her look a little more crazy. Fluttering around her, her dress swept sideways around her legs, revealing her lace up boots, and she saw Santino's eyes widen. Clearly, he wasn't prepared to see anyone other than Undertaker in such attire.

"Oh, I assure you, m'dear," Undertaker said, swaying a little where he stood, his grin widening to manic proportions as he tried to fiddle with Santino's hair again. Hurt caused his smile to falter a little when Santino brushed him off once more. "I was only here to say I was sorry for ruining a pretty lady's face and chest. I wasn't going to damage it again, or your pretty little babies. Brienne and Ennata, are they?"

He reached over and tickled them again, before turning and walking away, Santino following, after glancing at the twins with a look of mingled curiosity and hatred. Scowling, Grell pulled the pram closer.

"You'll have to bring the rest to see me," he threw over his shoulder, waving slightly, allowing the black material of his robes to swing around his wrists in an odd manner. Santino hurried after him, hair trailing behind him, clearly asking about the 'rest'. Undertaker, Grell noted, hadn't really told Santino anything about Shinigami, had he? Shrugging, Grell watched them until they disappeared, before starting up again, heading straight towards Li Shu's Dressmaking Shop.

….

Grell found herself inside a beautiful shop, the brick walls hung with pretty white sheets of material, pink flowers and green leaves decorating them in pattern. Serving girls in matching Chinese dresses walked around the room, pearl earrings hanging from their ears, silver trays holding blue and white china cups with teapots with curling steam on them. A pretty girl with long, black hair and slanted black eyes walked up to Grell, bowing to her slightly, before asking if she would like some tea. Accepting happily, though a little disappointed that the cups were blue and white, instead of red, Grell sipped at it and glanced around in interest, waiting for Shu Li herself to appear.

"Hello, Ma'am," the girl's voice was sweet, with an accent to it that told Grell that she had been born in China, probably only brought over with Shu Li to help in the shop. "I am Che Yanlin, and I will serve you today."

"Thank you," Grell accepted, before she turned back to face the room again. She wasn't trying to be rude, of course, but she was rather disappointed that Shu Li hadn't been straight out to help her. She was rather well known amongst dressmakers, after all. "But I was hoping that Miss Li would be here to help me, today."

"She's very busy with an important customer today," Yanlin replied, folding the tray to her chest now that it was empty, the teapot set on a shelf to the side. "But I can help you. Or I could fetch her sister, Yubi."

"Do what you please," Grell replied, lip curling. She was an important customer, after all, and it was vital that she had a new dress for the night. Eating out with William was a big deal, after all. "In fact," she said, calling the nervous girl back. "Get me someone who will be able to make me a _very_ beautiful dress, for a very special occasion, though not too fancy to wear at a restaurant."

"I'll get Miss Yubi, or her student, Ting Liu, Ma'am."

With that she scampered off, evidently scared. Guilt curling in her gut just a little, Grell turned down to her children, ignoring the judging stares of the other serving girls around the room. It wasn't long before Yanlin returned, looking very embarrassed, her eyes fixed on her feet.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but as you can see, all our dressmakers are busy." She gestured around the room, causing Grell to notice a short, pretty woman with her hair in twin braids tied with red ribbons talking to a moody, green eyed blonde. The woman was trying to persuade the girl that it had been 'two years' and that she could 'wear a little colour now', whatever that meant. Grell suspected the sixteen year old, with her hair tied away in a severe fashion, was in mourning for someone important. Furthermore, she seemed rather familiar, though Grell couldn't place her.

Next to her, at the girl's adamant refusal, the woman was looking a bit annoyed, her slanted, dark brown eyes narrowing, her chest swelling underneath her short, red and gold dress, clearly another Chinese design, but one Grell had only seen in Lau's opium den, when she had Reaped a soul there, once. In the woman's hand, Liu, as she was led to believe by Yanlin, a red fan with black tear drop shapes on and Chinese characters, was being fluttered manically, as if the woman was rather annoyed at the blonde's conviction. Not surprised by the woman's reaction – Grell was certain she would have the same one – she moved her gaze away, already bored and annoyed at the sight before her.

Next, her gaze fell upon a girl woman with long, black hair that had a bluish sheen to it in the light, much like a magpie had a colourful sheen to its feathers when seen properly. Her eyes were slanted and dark brown, too, and she was rather a lot taller than Liu. Her hair was tied into two braids, hanging from two covered buns on the top of her head, and she was smiling, posing in the red dress she was wearing, slit down both sides to reveal her stocking clad legs, and using her black gloved fingers to show the gold pattern of flowers on it. To Grell, it was a very pretty dress, and she couldn't help but feel that she should like one similar to it, but with more of an English feel. The slits, however, could stay.

Next to her was another Chinese girl. Though Grell wasn't entirely sure she could remember the name of the girl – it was something like Ran May or Ran Mao – she was certain she had seen the girl before. Her hair was done as always, her wide, slanted gold eyes following the fingers of the woman, who Grell was told was Miss Yubi Li. The girl in purple was fiddling with her own dress and saying very little, though the redhead was certain she heard a 'blue' coming from the woman's mouth at some point.

Finally, Grell's eyes lit upon the final other Chinese dressmaker in the shop – the rest had taken a day off, apparently – and her eyes widened. With her was the Earl Ciel Phantomhive, his butler glaring at her from behind the two. Ciel had grown very little, it seemed, though his face looked older. His eye was still covered by a patch, and he was frowning at the woman, clearly a little embarrassed to be seen talking with a woman who had cut her hair off into a bob, slipped white, silk gloves on that reached her elbows, and was in a black, Chinese style dress with blue roses printed on it, reaching only her hips, and showing off her pretty, black-stockinged legs. Boredom showing on her face, clearly having finished her transaction with the little Earl, her single eye (the other covered by an eyepatch with a blue rose on it – met Grell's, and she smiled prettily. This, apparently, was Miss Shu Li.

"Well, I'll wait for her, then," Grell told Yanlin, before pulling her glove off and examining her perfect nails, not caring that she seemed rude. She noticed, with some interest, that Shu's smile widened when she saw Grell's haughty behaviour.

"Yes, Ma'am," Yanlin replied, going a little pinker, and bowing to her, before walking off to speak with the woman. Grell turned back to her babies, waiting for the dressmaker to come over.

…..

"What lovely children," a velvety voice over Grell's shoulder caused her to spin around, her hand flying to her heart as she gazed around in confusion, before her green eyes met ruby and she scowled, remembering a fight from months ago, which had been the last time she had seen the smirking figure. "I assume they take more after William T. Spears than they do after you, Mr. Sutcliff."

"Sebastian," Grell said, refusing to call him by Sebas-chan like she once had. He didn't deserve that, when he was threatening to kill her unborn children the last time they met. "I didn't expect to see you here. Isn't the brat supposed to be dead?"

Wrinkling her nose at the mention of the boy, Grell turned to see he had taken up residence by her children, and was watching them curiously, almost the same way a cat would watch a fish before eating it. She didn't like it, so snatched them away, before handing them off to Yanlin, who had returned, and was looking even more nervous.

Ciel was watching with wide eyes, an eyebrow raised. Narrowing her eyes at him, Grell made it clear that she wanted to know what it was that Ciel had found so fascinating about them.

"One of them has two colours in their hair," Stating the obvious, Ciel turned to face Grell, who was glaring at him with barely concealed loathing. The only reason she had tried to conceal it, at all, was because she didn't want another fight with Sebastian to break out. "Don't you think that rather gives away the fact that they're not human?"

"Maybe," Grell shrugged, slipping her glove back on and brushing invisible dust off of her clothes, determined to make sure Earl Phantomhive knew how little she cared for the brat. "But then again, it isn't like it's really all that big a deal to me. I'm a Reaper, after all."

She grinned.

"Indeed," Sebastian interrupted, his eyes scanning the shop, fixing on the blonde who was starting to walk off smugly, Liu looking rather annoyed behind her. "But I'm afraid we must depart, Ciel." Raising her eyebrows at the changed manner in which Sebastian addressed Ciel, Grell narrowed her eyes at the blonde, sure that she had seen her before, though she couldn't tell where. "Good day, Mr. Sutcliff."

Sebastian bent at the waist in a mocking parody of a bow, before turning and leaving the shop with Ciel, who, the redhead had noticed, had been eyeing Brienne with a nervous air about her. Smirking, she realised what it was that may have had Ciel so concerned. Brienne was a prefect little cross between her and William. First off, she looked like the both of them, but acted as pompous and stuck up as William did. William, it seemed, had a temper on him, which was quite easy to snap, and if he was quick to snap, and was rather violent, she could only imagine what Brienne would be like on the snap, if she took after herself in the violence side of things. And, her teeth were wickedly sharp, so she would be a formidable child, too.

"Shall I take those two, Ma'am," Yanlin's sweet voice interrupted Grell's imaginings, and she turned to face the flustered looking girl. Realisation dawned on the redhead, and she realised that she hadn't yet wiped the scowl off of her face that had followed the Earl and the Butler's retreating backs, so quickly she took it down and constructed a smile, though it did little to comfort the girl. Then again, Grell realised, her smile would do little to comfort anyone. It was deadly, after all.

"Yes," Grell agreed, noticing that Shu was waiting for her with a tape measure. "The one with the black hair is Brienne, the one with the red streaks is named Ennata, and for Death's sake, no matter what you do, don't put your finger in Brienne's mouth. Her teeth are _sharp_."

With that, Grell spun on her heel, before stalking off towards Shu, her muscles tense and her body ready for a fight, the staccato tapping of her heels, muffled slightly by the material of her dress, grating on her eardrums.

"What can I do for you, Miss Sutcliff?" Shu smiled indulgently, lounging against a dressmaker's dummy seductively, eyeing the room on the search of any men in the area. Clearly, Grell decided, Shu was like her. Any attractive man was worth trying to seduce, until the one man that you adored decided that he adored you back.

"I need a dress ready by tonight," Grell decided, eyes lighting around the room in search of Liu again. Spotting her, she pointed. "I want it made with that material, and I want it worthy of a dinner date."

"Well then, Ma'am," Shu smiled, lips pressed together firmly, full and beautiful. "You came to the right place."

 **Author's Note: I'm really sorry if Grell is out of character. I think she is, at times, but then at other times I think she isn't. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and I hope she isn't** _ **too**_ **bad. (The blonde woman is Lizzie, if you didn't realise, and if you did, well done. Or not, if you think it was easy to tell and can't accept compliments, because I know I can't.** **) I'm just really glad that I finally thought of something to write.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: So, this is the final chapter. Oh, don't look at me that way, those who are disappointed. There will be a sequel, when I get around to writing it, with William, Grell, Brienne, Ennata, Ronald, Alan, Eric, Violet, Frieda, Bianca, Ciel, Sebastian, Undertaker, Santino, and Ronald's mysterious crush. More faces will be joining, and some old OCs that I've mentioned in the story, such as Lilliana, Aliyah, Shu, Yanlin, and the girls from the ball.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, just this story line in particular. And the storylines of the other stories for Black Butler I've written, of course, but that's beside the point.**

Difficult Love Chapter Twenty-One

Smiling at herself in the mirror, Grell checked herself over one last time. Her body was covered in a fabulous dress, the sleeves short, the skirt rumpled and the entire thing covered in golden flowers, giving it a Chinese touch whilst still being socially acceptable at the restaurant that she would be sitting in. Her hands were covered by golden silk gloves, reaching all the way up to her elbows, and she couldn't deny the fact that she was still wearing her thigh-high, lace up boots.

A silver chain with a ruby pendant glinted in the candlelight around her neck, and a red bow could be seen at the side of her head, the other side of her head sporting a side ponytail, decorated with red roses. Her eyes were lidded with a dusky pink colour, and lined with black, still noticeable behind her glasses, which she was immensely thankful for. She didn't want to waste time putting on makeup if it wasn't going to be seen. Her cheeks were painted with a pink rouge, making them seem sharper, not that they really needed to, and her lips were painted a bright red. Knowing she looked beautiful, and smoothing her dress down once more, Grell pulled a red wrap around herself, before picking up her children and carrying them downstairs, ready to put them in the pram and wheel them to Ronald's house.

Finally having got the wiggling children in the pram, along with some bottles, a few diapers and a change of clothes should they need to stay the night for any reason, Grell set out for Ronald's, creating a portal to the Reaper realm in her entrance hall and wheeling straight through it.

In the Shinigami realm, though there were many people about in Shinigami London, she still stood out. This wasn't really a surprise to her. Red clothes, anywhere, always meant you stood out, unless you were in a crowd of people in red clothes. Grell passed a ginger haired woman in a dress striped vertically in white and grey, the woman's arms covered in white up to the elbow, where they broke off into pinkish skin until the sleeves of the dress cut the colour off. She turned to sneer at Grell a little, and Grell realised, with a little jolt, that the woman was Jayde Dale, the glasses admin woman who absolutely hated her guts, for some reason or another.

Next, Grell passed the brown haired ex-girlfriend of Jorge, named Adrienne Langley, who smiled a sort of pained grimace at Grell, though the redhead couldn't have said why. Adrienne was wearing a pretty blue hat with ribbons hanging down her back, and a matching, pale blue dress with white trimmings on the bustle, skirt and sleeves.

A woman, who Grell suspected was named Raquel Stevens, walked with Gideon Tucker, one of Grell's co-workers, and she eyed the dress she was wearing with distasted as it brushed against her children's pram. Her hair was curling and black, falling down her back, and her dress was trimmed with grey fur, the rest of it a dark green. Her hat was green and trimmed with a black fur rim, and Grell couldn't help but notice that she was, in her head, comparing their looks to hers. How was it that she was still worried about what William thought of her, when it had been months and months since they started dating, and William had never shown any signs of wanting to be with another woman, and was a father? Sighing, she shook her head, turning away, only to start comparing more women to her.

Isabelle Holmes, a pretty, black haired lady was the next to be compared, a white parasol in her hand that tangled in Grell's hair slightly, causing the two to stop and talk and untangle, before they walked on, Grell having laughed to herself about the big pink bow that was situated at the centre of Isabelle's neckline. It didn't really suit her, looking more like the sort of thing that Violet would wear. Wondering absently, Grell hadn't noticed the next two she had compared to her, until she walked into them.

Furious, Niamh Wilson, a pretty brown haired woman in white with purple trimmings to her dress, and Elizabeth Watts, a woman with dark red hair, dressed all in black, glared at her, before eyeing the wheel of her pram, seeming as if they were deciding whether it was worth the risk of kicking it in their annoyance, or whether they should just let it go. They let it go, when they heard Grell's growl, and saw her bared teeth. When Brienne, clearly a little annoyed, and bared her teeth in a cute, innocent way, just as Grell had, Niamh and Elizabeth had walked on, deciding it wasn't worth the trouble.

Finally, wary of the rest of the people in the area, Grell reached Ronald's house. Knocking on the door and standing back, Grell tapped her foot against the ground and gazed out at Shinigami London, head whipping back around when she heard the door begin to open next to her. Ronald was standing in it, looking a little dishevelled, and blinking sleepily, as though he had just been sleeping. The red lines that indicated where his glasses had cut into his cheek at an angle showed that he had, in fact, been sleeping, probably at a table.

"Are you sure I can leave Brienne and Ennata with you?" Grell asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "You look _very_ tired. I'm sure I could threaten An and Riri to take them, if you can't. I'm sure Vi would love it."

"No," Ronald disagreed, reaching out to see the little babies. "It's fine, honestly, sempai. Besides, you brought them all the way here. No point going out to the outskirts to find Miss Irwin and Miss Shepard now, is there?"

"I suppose not," Grell agreed, drawing her wrap closer around her and fiddling with the fringing on it. "Well, in that case, honey, they're yours for the night. I'll come by to collect them in the morning. Do you think you can handle that?"

" _All night_?" Ronald looked a little put out about that, before glancing down at them warily. "Do they wake up a lot?"

"Hmm," Grell considered this. It seemed like a lot, she supposed, but that was only because they were so tiring. Besides, sometimes you didn't even know if they were awake, well, sometimes you didn't even know that Brienne was awake. "You won't know if my darling little Brienne is awake," Grell informed him, before turning her attention towards Ennata who was starting to wine, rather dramatically, if Grell did say so. "Though my sweet little Ennata could be heard through a war between heaven and hell, so you'll know about it should she be awake. Honestly, though, you only have to put up with them one night, and it's Saturday tomorrow, so I don't know why you're complaining."

Ronald flushed a little at this, before nodding and drawing the pram inside. "Well, seeing as it's only one night, and Saturday, as you say, sempai, I'm sure I'll survive." He looked up, glancing at the clock on the wall in his hallway. "Now, sempai, I think it's time you best get to your date."

Excitement rushed through Grell, and she felt her face stretching into a smile, before she reached down and kissed each of her children, tickling their foreheads before bidding them both goodbye and stepping back.

"Goodbye, Ronnie," she called waving her fingers and stepping away from him. "Wish me luck."

With that, she created a portal to the alleyway beside the shop, and stepped straight through, ready for her date.

….

William was already inside, standing by a waiter with white-blonde hair and declining being sat, telling the man that his companion wasn't yet there. He looked up when Grell walked in, and he seemed to relax a little. Perhaps he had been worrying that she wouldn't come, or perhaps he was worrying that Ronald had failed to deliver the message. Either way, when she arrived inside the restaurant, his shoulders seemed a little less tense than they had been before.

Smiling, she walked over to him, linking her fingers with his and seeing that William finally allowed the blonde man to show them to a table, Urien, on the far side of the room, eyeing them warily, eyebrows raised when he saw that Grell's stomach was no longer round with pregnancy. He blinked a few times, and Grell grinned her sharp-toothed grin at him, causing him to shake his head. He looked bewildered, like he was trying to work out if he had had a little too much to drink that night, and had instead had a very odd dream. William, next to her, scowled at him. At least, she thought it was a scowl. It was hard to tell. His face didn't really move much.

Finally, they sat down, Grell ordering a red wine and William ordering a white, both of them talking quietly together. When the waiter returned with their drinks, they were asked what they wished to eat, and Grell found herself ordering a simple chicken breast in a cheese sauce, with a rice salad and roast potatoes, William ordering a dish or lasagne. William, Grell had noticed, was rather keen on Italian food.

"So," she started, taking a sip at her wine and watching William with wide eyes. "Why did you ask me out, Willy-darling? Was there a specific reason?"

"Not particularly," William told her, taking a sip of his own wine and leaning back in his chair slightly, though he was still rather stiff and formal. "I simply realised that we hadn't spent nearly enough time together alone any longer, and though I know we have the twins to look after, we must have some time to ourselves, as well."

"Aww, you're _such_ a prince charming, Willy-darling," Grell promised him, before fiddling with her cutlery and smiling a little, remembering years beforehand. "Though I would never have realised it to look at you back when we were in the academy."

"Pardon me?" Confusion toning his voice, William watched Grell curiously, clearly missing something. Generously, he waited for her to explain.

"Oh, nothing much," Waving it off with a sweep of her hand, Grell's grin stretched, her hair falling silkily over her shoulder. "I was simply remembering you, back when we were in the academy, with that ridiculously messy hair of yours. I don't know why, but I can only imagine you with messy hair when you've just woken up, now, _darling_."

"I myself cannot imagine me with untidy hair during the day, either," William agreed, taking another sip of his wine and setting it back on the table, his fingers straightening the cutlery before him as he spoke. "I can imagine you with short hair like you had back in the academy even less, though, Grell."

"Oh, _darling_ ," Reaching out to take his hand, a little amused at the fact that even when he was supposed to be relaxing and having a good time he was busy tidying things and making things absolutely perfect, Grell teased him gently. "You should know that I would _never_ cut my hair, ever. The idea is just horrifying, after all."

"Indeed," William agreed, before a faint smile curled his lips. "Though I am still unsure as to what you were wearing the day I spoke to Thomas."

"I was wearing a very fashionable outfit," Grell claimed, voice rising dramatically and her arms waving around importantly, dropping the black haired man's hand across from her. She dropped her voice when she realised she had attracted the attention of a handsome blonde man and a pretty, brown haired woman in blue on the table next to them. "Besides, you have to admit that I looked very good."

"You looked silly in my eyes at the time," William informed her, speaking before she could voice her outrage. "However, looking back on it, I must admit that you looked rather feminine, so I suppose you were rather beautiful."

"I was told, by two women at the time, who both looked rather similar, by the way, though they weren't related," Grell began, thanking the waiter as he placed her meal down in front of her, the same process being repeated on William's side of the table. "That I looked very adorable. I think they had the right idea, you know, instead of this whole 'I didn't think you looked very good, but you might have' thing that you're going for."

William had the good grace to look mildly embarrassed. Very mildly, but mildly embarrassed all the same.

"Anyhow," Grell said, brushing it off and leaning forwards. "You have the chance to redeem yourself, my _handsome_ man. I'm wearing a new dress tonight, and I was wondering how you think I look."

"Beautiful, as always, Grell," William informed her, before stopping to chew some lasagne that he had just slipped into his mouth. He swallowed, and continued talking. "I'm supposing that you went to that new dressmakers you were talking about last night?"

"Li Shu's Dressmaking Shop?" Inquired the redhead, her eyebrows raised. She was impressed that William had remembered. "I was sure you weren't listening to that. I'm glad that you were, Willy-darling."

"I was listening," William responded, eyes following Grell's movements as she cut up her chicken and placed it into her mouth, chewing it slowly. "However, I was also thinking. You cannot expect me to listen to you all the time, Grell. You never stop talking. Honestly."

"I do stop talking _sometimes_ , Willy-darling," Pointed out Grell, running a hand over her chest and looking at William coyly, before touching her lips. "And I'm sure you enjoy those moments quite a lot, _darling_."

A faint flush had risen to William's cheeks, and he looked down, clearly not comfortable with this sort of conversation in public. Then again, Grell doubted if he would be comfortable with this sort of conversation when in private. He may think that the walls were listening to them, or the invisible faeries, or something of the sort. Then again, from what Grell had heard about the Fair Folk, she doubted they would mind much if she and William talked like this. It seemed that they would be rather more amused than anything.

"Of course I _enjoy_ it, Grell," William replied, before taking another bite of lasagne. "But that doesn't mean that I have to listen to your constant speaking."

"I never said you did," Grell pointed out, waving her fork at William a little, before taking another sip of her wine. "Which is exactly why I never complained yesterday that you weren't listening. I just said, now, that I hadn't suspected you were. But I'm glad that you were. Are you sure you were listening this time?"

"Of course I was," Responded William, meeting Grell's eyes again and sipping at his own glass. "I suppose you never expressly told me that you thought I wasn't listening, though you did poke me in the ribs rather hard, which I took to mean the same thing. I apologise. Though what it did mean, I shall never know, I suppose."

Embarrassment tinged Grell's cheeks and her face fell a little, confusion lighting her face before she remembered that she had indeed poked her man in the side the night before. That, though, was because he had left the washing up to her the night before, and she hadn't felt like getting into a fight about it, or annoying him terribly, so she had just poked him rather hard when it came to mind.

"That," she choked out, her cheeks very red, though you could hardly notice it through the rouge she was wearing. "Was because you left the washing up to me, when I was trying to care for our lovely little babies."

Across to the other side of her, a blonde haired woman in turquoise and black tittered, her smile hidden behind her hand as her pale grey eyes met Grell's. Grell nodded at her, before turning back to William, who was looking faintly embarrassed again. Apologising quickly, William just shook his head, before eating the rest of his meal in silence, Grell following suit.

Before long they were done, and their waiter, Simon Clare, came over to ask them for their requests for dessert. Grell chose a strawberry jam tart, with raspberries scattered atop it, and William chose a simple bowl of vanilla ice-cream, which Grell modified, so that the waiter would pour chocolate sauce on it. The stoic man across from her looked a little put out by this, but Grell knew that he would thank her later. Smiling sweetly, she fiddled with her hair, then looked about the room, wondering why, again, she had been asked out. It wasn't normal for William to take her out without a reason. When she turned back to him, William was not in his chair.

Confusion dawned on Grell's face, before she glanced to the side to see William kneeling down next to his chair, and she wondered if his shoe and come undone, though the position he was in looked fairly familiar to Grell. What, exactly was he doing? Hand in his pocket, clearly searching for something, William wasn't looking at her, but Grell couldn't help but feel that her eyebrows were crinkled with bewilderment.

Finally, William looked up at her, his gaze steady, and pulled a little box out of his pocket. Still convinced she was missing something, Grell stayed put, her eyes narrowing at the box. William opened it, before her, showing off the silver band with a large ruby in the middle, little black gems running around the silver band, and Grell stared at it as if it were the reason her head felt so muddled. What, exactly, was William doing, again?

"Grell?" William asked, eyes searching hers, and her head snapped up, realisation dawning on her. William was kneeling before her with a ring in a box in his hands. Didn't that mean…? No, surely not. She had said so herself, William would never propose to her. He would never want to see her walk up the aisle. She then, what was going on? Was he playing some kind of cruel joke on her? But then again, no, William didn't really understand jokes, of that, she was certain.

"Well?" Prompted William, looking a little bewildered by her confusion. He was glancing around nervously, now, the eyes of the rest of the restaurant on them. Grell cocked her head to the side, still unsure about the situation, though she realised, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she was being extraordinarily slow. "Will you marry me, Grell?"

Those words finally woke her up, and she glanced at William with massive eyes, feeling tears brimming. Would she marry him? Wasn't that a silly question? Like she wouldn't marry him! Forgetting all of her confusion, and her adamant belief that William would never marry her, Grell flung herself out of her chair and onto him, arms threading around his neck as he was bowled over onto the floor.

Tears of happiness dripping down her face, Grell felt herself smile into his shoulder, before she pulled her face up and connected his lips to his gently, in a chaste kiss, before pulling away again.

"What sort of a question is that, Willy-darling," she whispered, eyes wide and shimmering, her lips connecting with his again before he could speak.

She felt herself open her lips for him, and their tongues danced as people murmured around them. She knew, in the back of her head, that what they were doing was very improper, and she shouldn't be acting in such an unladylike way in public, but she couldn't help it. William tasted of wine and lasagne as she kissed him, and he felt perfect under her hands. He smelt spicy and clean, and Grell knew that she herself smelt like roses, having sprayed herself with rose water before coming out. Her hands ran through William's hair as one of his hands pressed into her back, the other still holding the box with the ring in it. Finally, they pulled away, both breathing in the same air, and William raised an eyebrow, before sitting up, Grell still in his lap.

"What shall I take that as, Grell?" He asked, causing Grell to gasp once more. William _did_ know how to tease? That was a surprise.

"I," Grell began, a smile rising to her lips as she pulled off one of her gloves and picked the ring out of the box, examining it closely, holding it up to her face to read the inscription. "Would take it as a _yes_ , darling."

"Good," William nodded, pulling Grell to her feet, as he stood up, and allowing her to get back into her chair. The inscription wasn't much, she realised, but it was clearly from the heart. " _I love you."_ It read. " _Forever_."

Smiling, Grell slipped it onto her finger, before slipping her glove back on, ignoring those who still dared to clap politely, even after her extreme behaviour. Besides, she realised, as her dessert was brought towards her, she was going to do something a lot more impolite with William later. Glad that she had left Brienne and Ennata with Ronald, Grell slipped a bit of jam tart into her mouth, her eyes connecting with William's and a flush rising to her cheeks.

 _Damn it_ , she realised as she watched her fiancée scoop up some of his chocolate sauce and ice-cream and enjoy it, _I love this man. Forever_. And, she knew, she meant it, just as he meant that he would love her forever. Smiling, she watched him some more, wondering just what was to come for them in their lives. Not for the first time, she felt excitement.

 _ **Author's Note**_ **: So, I'm finished. I hope you enjoy the story. It was a lot of fun to write. As I said, there will be a second story, when I get around to it, and I don't want to make any promises, but I may write a story based around Ronald and his mysterious crush and Undertaker and his Santino Bray. I am also going to write a story for Alan and Eric, connected with this story, and it is possible that I will write a Sebaciel fic and an Elizabeth x OC story that will also fit into the world this story is set it. Now, there are no promises, save for the Alan x Eric and the Grelliam story, but there are going to be more, as I just can't stop writing. It would be painful to stop, so I won't. I hope you enjoyed this story, and keep an eye out for the next one.**


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